


Cursed Or Not

by Ltleflrt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A side of Sabriel, Accidental Curses, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creature Dean, Do not repost, Fluff, M/M, Minor Castiel/Meg Masters, Profound Bond, Shapeshifter Dean, Smut, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Witch Castiel, making deals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 115,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/pseuds/Ltleflrt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While experimenting with magic when he was a kid, Sam accidentally cursed Dean.  Now, Dean is forced to wear a spelled amulet constantly, or he'll turn into a random animal.  For a little over a decade, he's learned to live with the curse, and has even found it useful in some cases, but he sure would be happier without it.  </p><p>When he meets a witch named Castiel, he's offered a deal.  Instead of assuming all witches are bad, Dean can spend a season getting to know him.  If at the end of the season, Dean still thinks he's evil Castiel will send him away with his memory wiped of the whole experience.  But if he learns that Castiel is not the monster Dean assumes he is, he'll lift Dean's curse.</p><p>It's an offer Dean can't bring himself to pass up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on this might be slow because I'm also working on my DeanCas Big Bang story. I am almost done with it, so hopefully it won't keep me distracted for long. I'm hoping this will distract me from my crippling writer's block on the DCBB story actually :D
> 
> For the sake of Plot, I will be changing a little bit of the lore about witches. Sam and Dean are still Hunters, but this is an Alternate Universe in which nothing from the show happens unless I decide to write it into this story. Wee!
> 
> Oh, and it's unbeta'd. Please forgive the errors :)

It took more than a week to gather all the spell ingredients.  Some of them were easy.  Nutmeg and coriander were in Uncle Bobby’s spice rack.  Fluxweed and jewelweed grew in the herb garden in the backyard.  Dog hair came easy, too.  Uncle Bobby’s rottweiler Tadashi had barely noticed when Sam plucked out a tuft of fur since he was busy chewing on the dried pig ear Sam had given him.  Several other ingredients were picked up in a local new age shop for good prices since the store’s owner didn’t actually know they were used for real magic spells. 

Other ingredients were more difficult.  Phoenix tears and skinwalker sweat were expensive, and he’d had to save up several months of allowance to purchase.  A flawless piece of amber big enough to focus the power he needed had to be imported from Greece, and that had taken every cent he’d saved from his paper route job for the last year.  Ordering them and having them delivered without getting caught was a challenge.   

He really didn’t want Uncle Bobby, or even worse, _his parents_ asking him what he needed the stuff for.  If they found out he’d been sneaking into the magic books he wasn’t even supposed think about, he’d be grounded until his second year of college.   

Seeing as how Sam Winchester had just started his first year in Jr High, that was saying a lot. 

Like, he’d be a dead kid if he got caught. 

But the magic books were so _fascinating._  He just couldn’t help sneaking into them.  

From the outside, Sam looked like the better behaved of the two Winchester boys.  He always got good grades, and he was always willing to work hard.  He was responsible, and polite.  Unlike his brother Dean, who cared little for school, was always sneaking out to visit girls, and only worked hard if it was on the Chevy Impala he was restoring for when he turned 16 and got his driver’s license.   

In truth, Sam was more of a rebel than Dean ever would be.  If mom and dad gave an order, Dean followed it like the good little soldier their dad expected him to be.  Sam, though, questioned everything.  And when he was told to stay out of the magic books, he immediately wanted to know why. 

The first time he’d snuck into Uncle Bobby’s library and picked the lock on the cabinet where the books where stored, he’d discovered that just sneaking one into his room would do him little good.  He’d had to learn some old languages in order to even read them.  Latin had been easy, Greek a little harder.  One of the books was in Japanese, and he hadn’t even tried.   

Luckily, when he checked out language books from the library everyone just thought he was being a book worm and a diligent student.  No one suspected why he wanted to learn ancient languages.  It also helped that he was smart enough to pick the languages up quickly.  

The book he currently had open on the floor of his bedroom was in ancient Greek.  He’d painstakingly translated the spell into English, and he had his notebook sitting in his lap as he mixed the spell ingredients together.  He kept glancing down at the original book as he read the spell out loud. 

There was a croak from the frog sitting docily in the center of the spell symbols he had scrawled on the hardwood floor with white chalk, and Sam cast an irritated glance at it.  He hoped that when he transformed it into a dog, that it wasn’t a yappy dog.  He went back to reading the incantation, concentrating carefully on pronouncing each word. 

Just as he was speaking the last word, the door opened and his brother Dean stuck his head through the opening.  “Hey Sammy, I was gonna make some pizza, did you-” 

Sam, startled by the interruption since he’d thought he was home alone, yelped and jerked, kicking over the potion he’d so meticulously mixed.  It spread across the wood floor in a noxious puddle.   

“Dammit, Dean!” Sam snarled.  “How many times do I have to tell you to knock first?”  He bit his lip as he watched the efforts of _months_ of work go to complete waste.   

“It’s not like you were jerking off,” Dean groused.  His green eyes narrowed suspiciously when they landed on the markings on the floor and the puddle of strangely colored liquid.  “Um, Sammy?  What the hell are you doing?” 

Slamming the spell book closed, and shoving it behind him, Sam did his best to look innocent.  “Uh… studying.”  He picked up the Greek to English dictionary and his notebook full of translations, waving them slightly to bring Dean’s attention to them. 

Dean frowned and stepped further into the room.  He came to a stop just inside the circle of symbols and bent down to pick up the frog.  He held it up in front of his face, wrinkling his nose at it.  “When did you get a frog?” 

“I found it in the garden,” Sam mumbled.  Carefully he reached back and slid the spell book under his bed while Dean wasn’t paying attention.   

“Huh,” Dean grunted.  He lowered the frog and squinted down at Sam, making him squirm.  He liked to cultivate the idea that he wasn’t very smart, but the truth was that he was sharp as a scalpel, and at 15 almost as lethal after years of training with their parents.  Sam had to concentrate on keeping his expression calm under Dean’s thoughtful scrutiny.  “And what the hell is all this, then?” 

Dean wiggled his toes where they rested over the chalked symbols.  Sam dropped his attention to his brother’s bare feet.  His eyes widened as the puddle of liquid moved as if sentient.  He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he could do more than inhale, the liquid brushed against Dean’s pinky toe. 

There was a quite _whuff_ sound, and Sam flinched.  In the space of time it took for him to blink, Dean had transformed. 

Into a chihuahua. 

Sam stared down at the little dog.  It stared back up at him with green eyes that bugged out slightly.  He looked like he was in shock, completely frozen, mouth open enough to show his sharp, tiny teeth.   

They both reacted at the same time. 

“Holy shit!” 

 _YIP!_  

Sam’s mouth dropped open again when he realized that his brother had just barked at him.  Then it hit him that his tough older brother was now in the body of the least threatening dog breed on the planet, and he threw his head back and began to laugh.  And when Dean started yapping at him angrily, Sam only laughed harder.   It was slightly hysterical and definitely powered by panic.  

His parents were going to _kill him._  

Dean kept barking, and Sam struggled to calm down.  He could practically hear Dean’s words, bitching him out, threatening to kick his ass to the ocean and back.  Sam was fairly certain that if his parents didn’t kill him, Dean would at the very least maim him. 

Covering his face, Sam sucked in several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.  Dean settled after a moment, although his small body rumbled with a growl every now and then while he waited for Sam to come back to himself.  Once he had a handle on his hysteria, Sam dropped his hands and looked at his brother again.  “God, Dean, you have really shitty timing, you know?” 

Dean yipped, and his giant eyes narrowed angrily.   _Not my fault, Sammy._  

Sam jumped slightly when his brother’s voice echoed in his mind.  He leaned forward and plucked Dean up from the floor, holding him close so their noses almost touched.  “What did you just say?” 

_Put me the fuck down!_

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise.  “I can hear you in my head!” 

Dean had been wiggling in an effort to get out of Sam’s hands, but he froze and his head jerked up so he could look him in the eyes.   _Say what?_  

“Apparently you can still communicate,” Sam said thoughtfully.  He grinned.  “That’s pretty cool.” 

 _Yeah, it’s friggin’ great.  But I’m more worried about the fact that I’m_ a dog.  Dean’s thoughts clearly carried an angry snarl, but in emphasis his lips peel back to show his teeth again and he growled threateningly at Sam. 

Sam started guiltily.  “Yeah… yeah, let’s get you back to normal.”  He set Dean down and twisted to pull the spell book out from under the bed.  He settled it on his knees and flipped it open.  “There’s gotta be a counterspell or a cure in here somewhere….” 

He’d learned enough Greek that he sort of understood the gist of each page, but he did have to dig out his Greek to English dictionary to a few times.  It took him about an hour but he found what looked like the right spell to reverse the transformation. 

Luckily it took less ingredients than the original spell, and he knew that all of them were in the house.  Dean, bored because he couldn’t help, hopped up on Sam’s bed and curled up on the pillow while Sam rushed around the house gathering what he needed. 

After another hour, he had everything set up.  He had Dean stand in the center of a newly drawn symbol and began to chant.  The words still felt unwieldy on his tongue and he spoke them slowly to make sure he had the inflection right.  Once the incantation was finished, he poured the potion over Dean’s head, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Dean’s ears drooped under the stream. 

They both waited with bated breath. 

 _Is that it?_  Dean quirked one ear up and eyed Sam curiously.   _Nothing is happening._  

Before Sam could answer, there was a soft _whuff_ and a flash of light.  Sam blinked against the afterimage burned into his retinas for a moment.  When his vision cleared he didn’t know whether he should laugh again, or cry. 

Instead of a chihuahua, Dean was now a spider monkey. 

 _What.  The.  FUCK. SAM??_  

“I’m sorry!” Sam yelped.  “I must have pronounced something wrong!” 

He scrambled for his dictionary and compared it to the incantation again.  After a few moments, he was sure he knew what he’d done wrong and he tried again.  He didn’t have any more of the potion, but Dean was still damp from the first casting so Sam recited the spell again. 

 _Whuff.  Flash._  

This time Sam had closed his eyes in preparation for the light so he didn’t need to wait for his vision to clear.  Now instead of a spider monkey, Dean was a tiny, fluffy, extremely angry barn owl. 

 _You are dead.  So dead._  

“One more try!” 

One more try turned into five more tries.  Each time, Dean transformed, but never into a human.  Goat, snake, bob cat, pigeon, and finally a red fox. 

 _That’s enough,_ Dean growled irritably.   _Obviously this isn’t working.  We’re going to need Uncle Bobby’s help._  

Sam groaned.  Dean was right.  He was so dead. 

They had to wait for Bobby to get home.  He’d gone to the Sheriff’s office on the excuse that he needed to help Jody with a possible salt and burn, but the boys had known by the way he’d dressed a little nicer, combed his hair, and left his trucker hat behind that it was actually a date.  So they weren’t surprised when Bobby came home late, near midnight.  They were both relieved that he hadn’t decided to spend the night though.  Sam, because the longer he had to wait to confess what he’d done, the more anxious he became.  And Dean because he was _a freaking fox._  

To Sam’s relief, Bobby didn’t explode angrily when he explained what he’d done.  Instead he just sighed, ran his fingers through his thinning hair, and grumbled a soft “idjits” under his breath.  

 _Hey, don’t lump me in with Sam on this one,_ Dean protested.   _I’m the victim, here!_  

Bobby didn’t react, and that’s when Sam and Dean learned that no one else could hear Dean speaking.  

 _What the hell?_ Dean grumbled.   _How come only you can hear me?_  

“Maybe it’s because I cast the spell,” Sam answered. 

“What’s that, boy?” Bobby said as he started pulling books out of the shelves that might have the right spell to reverse the transformation.   

 _Tell him he’s going bald._  Dean’s tone was actually tinged with humor for the first time since this whole thing started. 

“I’m not going to tell him that!” Sam yelped.  Bobby grunted at him, and Sam turned his attention back to his uncle.  “It’s Dean.  I can hear him talking in my head, but apparently you can’t?” 

Bobby grunted, his expression going thoughtful.  Then he set aside the book he’d been flipping through and pulled out another one.  “Probably because you're the one that cursed him,” he cast a glance at Dean that almost looked amused.  “And if that’s the case, you may be able to control him.  Maybe for once, we can get him to eat some vegetables.” 

 _This isn’t funny!_ Dean’s words were accompanied by a huff and an ear twitch. 

Sam clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.  Dean was right, the situation really wasn’t funny.  But the fact that he could see his brother’s familiar expressions despite the fact that he was no longer human was kind of hilarious.  He took a deep breath and cleared his throat and made an effort to smooth out his expression before he lowered his hand.  “I know, Dean.  But don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” 

“I’m going to need the book you were using,” Bobby grumbled, and Sam ran upstairs to fetch it. 

\-----

There was little for Dean to do, but wait.  He could be of no use in the research because without hands, Dean couldn’t flip pages on the books.  For a fleeting moment he panicked when the thought crossed his mind that he might not be able to read in this form.  Foxes couldn’t read, right?  And his vision was different, nothing like how he could see when human.  Would he be able to interpret the symbols that made up words? 

He only managed to calm down when he looked at the spines of books on the lowest bookshelves and was able to clearly understand the titles.  He sighed in relief but it came out as a weird whine that he immediately cut off.  He scoffed at himself and it came out as a squeaky yip sound.  And that just pissed him off, because really?  

Instead of the curse that he’d tried to mutter, a low growl rumbled through him. 

“Quit yer bitchin’, boy,” Bobby grumbled from his desk.  He didn’t even look up from the tome he was studying.  “We’re workin’ on it.”

 This time Dean’s growl was deliberate and accompanied by an annoyed bark.  A high-pitched, yippy bark.  He huffed through his nose in irritation.  Foxes were supposed to be predators, sneaky little hunters.  But he sounded disgustingly _cute_ , and he was decidedly not okay with that.   

He kinda wished he could go back to being an owl.  At least then he could threaten Sam with his claws every time he looked at Dean like he wanted to scratch him behind the ears.  Seriously, that kid really needed a pet. 

 _How much longer do you think this is going to take?_ It had only taken a moment to realize that Sam had heard his freaked out thoughts if Dean directed them at him.  He’s glad he figured that out quick, because any time he tried to speak with his mouth, only animal sounds came out. 

“Just like I told you five minutes ago,” Sam grumbled.  “I don’t know.  Now stop interrupting me.  I’m trying to concentrate.”  He hadn’t even looked up from his book either. 

Dean resisted the urge to growl again.   _Fine, dude.  But I can’t just sit here.  I’m going crazy!_  

Sam finally looked up, and his big dark eyes were wide with pity.  “I’m sorry, Dean-” 

 _Can it, kiddo.  I get it._  Dean tried to grumble, and winced when it came out as a high pitched trilling noise instead.  At least it sounded as irritated as he felt.   _I’m gonna just… go do something._  

He got up and left, ignoring Sam’s protests.  He wouldn’t go far.  He just had to get the hell out of the library.  

Walking on four legs was… odd, but not uncomfortable.  Uncle Bobby’s house sure did look strange from a foot above the floor though.  Everything looked huge, and with his strangely distorted vision he couldn’t really see things until he was up close to them.  Colors were washed out as well.   

And his hearing!  Man, he could hear all kinds of things.  Even though he had wandered clear to the other side of the house, Sam and Bobby’s soft voices still reached him.  He could hear the faint rattle of pipes in the walls, and the distant sound of a truck passing on the highway which was normally something he never would have noticed.   

His nose also prickled with extra sensation.  He felt constantly on the edge of sneezing, and he wondered if he would ever get used to the heightened sense of smell.  Then he let out a whine at the thought that he’d be stuck in this fox body long enough to get used to it. 

Not having hands sucked ass, since he couldn’t open doors for himself.  But he let himself out of the house through Tadashi’s dog door.  The rotty was nowhere to be seen which was a good thing because in hindsight, Dean realized that the big dog might decide he’d make a fun chew toy.  But Dean was feeling a little depressed, so he curled up on the back porch, fluffy tale draping over his nose.  He’d have to trust his new senses to tell him if Tadashi was coming, and hope that he could find a good hiding spot before the rotty caught him. 

Tadashi never showed up, and Dean eventually dozed off to the sound of crickets and the slow, mesmerizing blink of fireflies in the weeds around the house.  He dreamed of running.  Not from anything, but after something.  Some small, tasty smelling creature that would crunch between his teeth and fill his belly. 

When the door behind him opened, Dean woke with a start, and it took a moment to brush away the strands of the dream to realize that Sam was talking to him. 

“We got something, Dean.”  Sam wouldn't look at him directly, and he did not sound as excited as he should have if he’d actually found a cure. 

Dean narrowed his eyes.   _Are you sure?_  

Sam squirmed, but finally looked down and met his eyes.  “We’re _pretty_ sure.” 

Dean didn’t like the sound of that.  He’d already gotten a taste of a spell gone wrong, and he wasn't exactly thrilled to be the target for another experimental spell.   _Sammy…_  

“Come on, Dean.  We gotta at least try this.  It’s the best solution we could find.” 

 _What the hell do you mean by that?_  

“Uncle Bobby will explain.” 

A soft churring sigh escaped Dean and he nodded.  Sam smiled in relief and turned to lead him inside.  Dean followed, head down and tail drooping low. 

Man, he _really_ hoped this worked…

 


	2. Witch Hunt

Dean resisted the urge to sneeze as he followed the faint scent of werewolf through the kaleidoscope of smells trying to catch his attention instead.  Even after all these years, he never quite got used to the increased sense of smell that came with being a dog. 

 _At least I'm not a bloodhound this time_ , he thought irritably as he turned a corner to follow the trail.  The one time that had happened, the smells had been so overwhelming that he'd started sneezing over and over until his sinuses were raw.  

He had much better control over the form he took now, even though he still couldn't pick and choose exactly what he'd turn into.  He could at least sense what was coming and with a monumental effort in concentration, he could decide what breed to turn into.  So, never again a bloodhound.  Or a chihuahua.  He had standards. 

Now,  he was trotting along in the body of a German Shepard.  He kinda liked it.  He felt the strength in his limbs and his jaw, and his sniffer worked well enough that he was pretty sure that he and Sam would have this case wrapped up tonight.  Which was good because he really didn't want to go after werewolves during the full moon and they only had a few nights left to catch this one. 

The scent under his nose increased, and he whuffed appreciatively and increased his pace.  It was easier to follow the trail now that he wasn't struggling to pick it up.  Despite the smell of trash, oil, and urine in the alley he was in, he could clearly scent the monster. 

 _Sammy, I got ‘em._    

Dean's ability to communicate with Sam telepathically was only one way so he just sent a mental map to the younger Winchester and kept going.  Sam would probably be pissed at him for continuing on his own, but Dean was the full time Hunter here.  He loved having Sam tag along on hunts during his summer break from college, but he was perfectly capable of taking down a werewolf on his own. 

He was reminded exactly why he needed Sam when he reached for his gun and nearly face planted on the dirty asphalt because _oh yeah, look, no hands!_  It had been a decade since he’d received this curse, and he still forgot sometimes.  His irritation came out as a deep rumbling growl and he dropped to his haunches to wait.  He may not be able to go after the werewolf until Sam joined him, but he sure as hell wasn't going to backtrack.  Sammy would be there soon. 

It wasn't long at all before he heard the familiar rumble of his baby.  The big black car pulled into the mouth of the alley, and Dean waited impatiently for Sam to get out.   

Sam unfolded himself from the drivers seat, and his eyes met Dean's from the other end of the alley.  His lips twitched into a smile and he patted his thigh.  "C'mon, boy!"  And then he whistled.  Three sharp bursts of sound that made Dean want to stick a finger in his ear and dig the noise out physically.   

Since he currently lacked hands, Dean resisted the urge to scratch with one of his hind feet and bared his teeth at Sam in a snarl instead.   _That joke got old ten years ago, Sammy._  

"Says, you," Sam retorted as he approached Dean.  He still looked on the edge of laughter, and was showing absolutely no fear that Dean would bite him, which was not very smart as far as Dean was concerned.  "I'm not sure that ever _won't_ be funny." 

 _I_ will _bite you._  Dean snapped his teeth to emphasize his point.   

Now Sam did laugh, a smug chuckle that had the hackles on Dean's neck rising.  "Yeah, yeah, Dean.  After we're done with the werewolf, I'll present my ass for your chomping pleasure."  He dug into his pocket and pulled out a necklace to dangle above Dean's head.  "That's assuming you want to stay a dog?" 

Dean growled in response and resisted the urge to snap at Sam again when he draped the necklace over Dean's head.  A familiar tingle ran through Dean's body and he was no longer looking up at Sam.  At least not as far as he had been.  The damn kid seemed to still be growing even though he was 22, and had a couple inches on Dean now.   

"I don't need teeth to kick your ass," Dean grumbled as he clapped his hands together in an effort to knock away the dirt he'd accumulated while walking on all fours.   

His sinuses still itched a little with an overabundance of smells and he wanted to rub his face, but his palms were black with grime.  He wrinkled his nose, wiggled it a little, and reached out to rub his hands on Sam's shirt in an effort to clean off some of the dirt.  Sam yelped and jumped back,  and Dean just glared at him as he rubbed his hands on his own jeans instead.  "You got your silver?" 

Sam pulled out his gun, checked the load, and nodded.  He bent down and pulled a knife out of his boot as well. 

Dean reached behind his back and pulled the gun he'd tucked under his belt before they'd split up.  He rarely wondered anymore where it and his clothes all went when he turned into an animal.  It was enough for him to know that anything he carried on him went with him, and once he had the amulet back on it would all come back from whatever magical storage compartment it disappeared to when he was fuzzy.  "Alright, then.  Let's do this."  He only waited for a nod of acknowledgement from his brother before turning on a heel and leading the way down the alley. 

The element of surprise made things easy.  This pack of werewolves consisted of five adults, and normally that would have been a lot for two hunters to take on their own, however catching them off guard had three of them down before the other two could even think to fight back.   

The hardest part of the whole thing was disposal and cover up since they were in a city and didn’t have a really good place to stash bodies. In the end, they set things up to look like a murder-suicide and Sam magicked away all traces that they had been there.  Dean kept his mouth shut, even though Sam using magic made him nervous as hell.  But it was either that, or chance getting caught, and the last thing a Hunter needed was five bodies riddled with silver bullets putting the cops on his heels. 

Cleanup finished, Dean and Sam left town, not stopping until they were in the next state over.  And only then because they needed to stop for gas.  They decided to grab a very late dinner at a 24 hour Biggersons while they were there. 

Dean moaned happily as he bit into his cheeseburger, ignoring the disapproval radiating from Sam's side of the table.  "Pretty sure 'm in love," he mumbled around a mouthful of meat. 

"Gross, Dean."  Sam, of course, had opted for salad.   

Dean looked up and pinned his little brother with an unimpressed look.  "I still owe you an ass kicking.  Don't make me cash it in."  Sam's face twisted into a petulant glare, but he went back to tapping away on his laptop.  Dean leaned to the side in an attempt to see the screen, even though it was impossible from this angle.  "What are you doing?" 

"Classes start next week," Sam explained without looking up.  "I'm just going over what I'll need." 

Dean swallowed and set his burger down as his appetite dimmed.  He grabbed his soda and took a long gulp before he felt sure his voice wouldn't betray how unhappy he was.  "So you're still going back?" 

Apparently he hadn't been able to hide his disappointment very well because Sam looked up, and he had Sympathetic Puppy Face turned up to eleven.  "Dean, we talked about this.  It was just for the summer." 

Dean nodded glumly and popped a fry into his mouth.  It was limp, overly greasy, and needed salt but even if it had been golden, crispy, and perfectly flavored it still would have tasted like cardboard.  "I know, Sammy.  It's just that..." he trailed off, not wanting to sound like a whiny kid.  "Nevermind." 

"Dean..." 

"Nevermind, dude.  It's nothing."  He ducked his head to avoid Sam's eyes and ate methodically, no longer enjoying the burger.  

It wasn't nothing of course.  He and Sammy had started hunting with their Dad as teens, and Dean had finally started hunting on his own at twenty.  It had taken a lot of begging and bargaining, but he'd talked John into letting Sam come with him sometimes.  Always under the condition that it didn't interfere with school. 

Since Dean had just barely scraped through high school, then jumped straight into full time hunting as soon as he’d graduated, he'd kind of expected Sam to do the same.  But Sammy had other dreams.  He liked hunting, but he had his heart set on getting a degree.  So Dean had to settle with summer vacation hunting trips with his little brother.  

It sucked.  Big time. 

Because Dean didn't get along well with other hunters.  He'd tried hunting with Gordon for a while, but the man's brutality had been off putting.  Dean was all for killing monsters, and even enjoyed the job.  But Gordon... well it took a lot for Dean to get queasy, but it was a constant feeling when he was with Gordon.  He'd also had to keep his curse a secret from the other man.  Dean wasn't a monster, but he doubted Gordon would have stopped for an explanation as to why Dean turned into an animal when he took off the copper horned-head pendant that was currently hanging around his neck. 

Dean still worried about running into the other hunter and having his curse get accidentally revealed, so he did his best to make sure cases were not already being worked before he started working them himself.  Bobby, Ellen, and Ash helped with that.  Between the three of them they usually knew where most hunters were at any given time.  But it was an imperfect system, and Dean didn't want to take a chance that Gordon had slipped under their radar. 

Hunting was really something that should be done in teams, for safety.  But Sam was the only hunter besides their dad that Dean could really stand to be around for long.  And he did have an ability that no other Hunters had which made him pretty effective on his own.  As long as he put his necklace somewhere easy to find when he took it off, he could change into an animal whenever he needed extra senses, or a small body to sneak into houses.   

He'd even learned to fly, so bird forms were useful.  He just didn't fly very _high._  

He slipped his hand up and squeezed the pendant around his neck.  The little horns dug into his palm painfully, but the reminder that it was with him was calming.  Sometimes he worried that his time as a human was all in his mind, and that he was still stuck in animal form.  It was a nightmare that he woke up from often enough, that he kept at least a couple bottles of booze in the trunk in case he need a little bit of liquid sleep assistance.   

He dropped his hand back to the table before Sam could see him gripping the pendant.  His little brother still suffered from epic bouts of guilt, and while it was his fault that Dean was cursed, Dean had gotten over his anger years ago.  He knew Sam was sorry, and that he'd never really stopped looking for a way to break the curse. 

It had been ten years since Dean had shifted the first time, and they were still looking for a way to reverse the spell.  Sam was still hopeful, but Dean had begun to give up.  Ten years was a lot of time, filled with a lot of research.  Sometimes he wanted to tell Sam that it was okay to give up, that he had come to terms with what he was now.  But he could never bring himself to say the words.  There was still a tiny spark of hope that someday he would be normal again. 

Dean's thoughts were interrupted when Sam spun his laptop around.  "Dean, check this out." He tapped the screen to point out the email he'd been reading.  "Ash found a lead for you." 

Dean leaned forward and his heart sped up when he read the words.  There were signs of witches in Utah.  He let out a satisfied breath.  He _hated_ witches.  They were disgusting, both because of the way they cast their magic and because of their "bond" with demons.  He had always suspected there was some hanky panky involved in those damn bonds, and that was just really fuckin' gross.   

But hunting witches was his specialty.  Everyone knew that he preferred to go after witches, and whenever someone in his small network of friends and family found a lead, they sent it to him first. 

He looked up at Sam, excitement making him grin.  “Wanna go?” 

Sam sighed and shook his head.  “Man, you know I don’t have time.  I’m cutting it short as it is.”

Hiding his disappointment, Dean shrugged and pulled the laptop closer to read the details of the case.  “Your loss, little brother.” 

“You’re still going to drive me back to Stanford right?” 

Of course he would.  Dean wouldn’t give up any of the time he had left to spend with his little brother.  Not even for a witch hunt.

 

\-----

 

Six days later, Dean was parked down the street from the house where his target lived. 

“You sure it’s the right place?” Jo always asked him if he were sure.  It didn’t seem to register that he’d been doing this a lot longer than she had. 

“Of course I’m sure.  Are you questioning Ash’s info?” 

“Someone’s got to or he’ll get a big head.” 

Dean snorted.  “No kidding.”  He tucked his phone between his ear and shoulder and flipped through the folder sitting in his lap.  It had pictures of this same house during different seasons for the last two years.  He looked up at the house, and he could see why Ash had flagged the place. 

The neighborhood was nice.  The houses were old, but looked well loved, and the yards were well groomed.  But due to the summer’s drought, and the lack of snow the winter before that he’d learned about from the newspaper archives, most of the yards were looking a little yellow and dry.  Except for one yard at the far end of the street. 

“This place looks like the Garden of Eden in the middle of an Oasis.”  He flipped the folder shut and tossed it onto the passenger seat, then grabbed the phone so he could hold it at a more comfortable angle.  “And according to the pictures Ash sent me, it’s always like this.” 

“So the guy’s got a green thumb.” 

“This place is desert, Jo.  There is scrub brush all over this damn city.”  He was exaggerating, but not by much.  Despite the nearby mountains, Utah was very dry.  “And the city is under water rationing right now because of a drought. 

It was Jo’s turn to snort, but it was full of derision instead of humor.  “So the dude is paying out the nose for his water bill.  It doesn’t mean anything.” 

Except that Dean had checked the house’s water records just that morning.  “Not according to the water company.  So he’s either using a shit ton of water and hacking the water company’s systems to make it look like he didn’t, or he’s using magic.” He paused thoughtfully.  “Actually sometimes I suspect all that computer shit might be magic.” 

Jo’s laugh tinkled across the airwaves, sounding tinny through the small speaker, but making him smile all the same.  “Yeah, and Ash is a Grand Wizard… actually don’t let that get back to him.  He’ll probably want us to call him that, and Doctor Badass is already obnoxious enough.” 

“No shit,” Dean agreed with a chuckle. 

“Seriously, though Dean.  Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.”   

A side effect of Dean's curse was the ability to sense magic, and what he was sensing now was very powerful.  He could feel it like an extra pulse under his skin, even from almost a block away.   

Jo huffed in his ear.  “Are you sure you don’t want help?  I could be there in a few days, or I could call Garth and see if he’s close enough-” 

“No!” Dean took a deep breath.  “For the love of God, do not send Garth.” He didn’t really dislike Garth.  At least not any more, since the dude had a habit of being disgustingly endearing.  But that didn’t mean he wanted to work with him voluntarily.  “I’ll be fine, Jo.  I should have this wrapped up tonight and then I’m heading home.” 

“Alright, if you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced, but at least she wasn’t trying to change his mind.  “But you’d better call me tomorrow or I’m sending out reinforcements.  Even if it’s Garth.” 

“I will.” 

“Ok, then.  Good luck.” 

Dean ended the call after a short goodbye.  "I'm definitely going to need it this time _,_ "he muttered as he continued to stare at the little white house nestled in among the greenery.  The magic he sensed was pulling at something inside him, and for just a moment, he considered backing out of this hunt, or calling Jo back and taking her up on the offer of backup. 

He discarded the idea almost immediately.  A witch this powerful would be too dangerous for anyone else to confront.  No other hunters had the advantage Dean had.  He reached up unconsciously and gripped the amulet around his neck.  It worked by making him immune to magic, and it had saved his life over and over as well as giving him back his human form when he wore it.  Bobby had never been able to duplicate the charm correctly, so it made Dean the best choice for hunting witches since he had the only one.    

It was a job he couldn’t put off any longer.  He got out of the car, and walked toward the house.  It was midday, and the neighborhood felt quiet and empty because most people were at work.  There was a chance that the witch wouldn’t be home either, but Dean had been watching the house since before the sun came up and no one had left.  He figured the worst case scenario was that he would have to break into the house and just wait for the witch to come home.  It wouldn’t be the first time he’d laid that kind of trap, and it tended to be pretty effective since the witches didn’t expect anyone to be able to walk past their magic booby traps and lie in wait for them. 

He stopped just outside the wrought iron fence surrounding the yard, with some difficulty.  The magic was pulling even harder at him now.  It made him nervous because he’d never felt anything quite like it before.  Magic always seemed to repulse him.  It felt oily, or itchy, or sometimes he just felt a physical push.  But this was warm and inviting, and even though he was loathe to admit it, he sort of liked the feeling.

Taking a deep breath, and then another, Dean steeled himself against the inviting pulse.  He had a job to do, and he was the only one who could do it.   

The walk to the front door to the house actually relieved some of the tension he felt since the magic seemed to be inviting him closer.  At the moment that was exactly what he needed to do.  When he reached the door, he didn't knock.  He reached out and turned the knob, and found it unlocked.  It swung open on silent, well oiled hinges, and he stepped inside and drew his gun.   

Instantly he was overwhelmed with the scent of herbs and flowers.  The combination of smells would have irritated him a few days ago, but his dog senses had finally faded after staying in human form for more than a few days in a row.  Now, the smell was pleasant.  It reminded him of the new age shop where Bobby sometimes purchased supplies, but less chaotic.  It was as if each scent was chosen to compliment each other.

He moved cautiously through the dim living room and into a hallway that led to a kitchen and dining room and a set of stairs that led to the second floor.  He checked those rooms before moving to the stairs.  On the next floor he found three small rooms and a bathroom with an old fashioned clawfoot tub.  Only one of the rooms had a bed.  The others were a small library and what looked like a craft room.  Dean frowned at the latter, but he didn't see any evidence of potion ingredients or spell components.   

There were paint supplies and a half finished painting on an easel on one end of the room.  The other side was taken up with a bench covered in small tools, and he could see some partially built wooden toys that looked hand made.  If he didn't still sense the waves of magic pulsing through the house, the mundane surroundings would make him think that he had the wrong place. 

The house's owner obviously wasn't in here, so Dean hurried downstairs.  There was a door in the dining room that led out to the back, and through the windows he could see a large shed on the other end of a large yard filled with even more impossibly green vegetation.  The shed doors were wide open, and when Dean stepped out in the back yard he could hear faint music drifting from that direction. 

"Yahtzee," he whispered and readied his gun.  He hurried across the yard and stepped into the shed.  And that was where he found what looked like a witch's workshop.  Drying herbs hung from the ceiling, and there were shelves full of jars that held strange looking objects.  All doubt that he was in the wrong place fell away.  There was only one problem.... 

It was empty. 

Dean scowled at the room, and let his gun sag a few inches.  "Dammit, where the hell are you hiding?" 

"I was collecting honey."

Dean spun around and pointed his gun straight at the speaker's chest.  His finger twitched on the trigger, but he paused when his eyes met the other man's.   

Impossibly blue eyes wide with curiosity, but not a single iota of fear, peered up at Dean from below messy dark hair.  When the man licked his lips, Dean's eyes were drawn down to them, noting the broad features and the beard stubble on the way down.  Dean could appreciate a good looking man, but this guy made him want to stare.   

And possibly touch, but that was a thought he pushed away immediately. 

"What do we have here?" 

The words made Dean's eyes snap back up to meet the other man's gaze.  His eyes were narrowed now, and he was looking at Dean as if he were a puzzle that needed to be solved.  He took a step forward, disregarding the gun pointed at him as if it were nothing.   Instinct finally broke through Dean's inaction and he pulled the trigger. 

The hammer slammed down with a loud click, but the gun did not fire.  Dean snarled and swung the gun at the man's head with one hand while he reached for the knife sheathed at his belt.  The man blocked the blow easily, but it distracted him from the blade going for his chest.  It sank into his flesh, the angle allowing it to slip between his ribs with no resistance.  

"Take that, fucker!" 

Dean's defiant snarl faded when the man only tilted his head to one side.  He glanced down at the blade, and then looked back up at Dean with a small smirk before reaching up to pull the knife free.  He dropped it, and it fell with a clang to the cement.   

 _Oh, shit._ It was Dean's last thought before the man reached up and placed the tips of two fingers to his forehead, and his world went dark. 


	3. The Bargain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! these chapters are long! i tend to get wordy :)

Shortly after summer vacation started the year Dean had turned sixteen, he had been under the hood of the '67 Impala replacing a worn out hose when his dad had found him.  John had looked tired, and a little ragged but he had just returned from a hunt the night before.  He'd smiled at Dean and handed him a beer, which was a surprise since he was extremely underage for it.  Dean had taken it though, and had even faked disliking it since there was no way he was going to let his dad know that he'd already been sneaking into the beer for a couple years now.  They drank together silently, enjoying the cool beverage in the heat of the afternoon.  Dean was almost finished when John had told him that he was going to start bringing him along on hunts.  

Dean had jumped at the chance of course.  He'd been begging to go for years, but John had insisted he was better off staying with Bobby so that he could focus on school.  But apparently he felt Dean was ready to learn the family business.  Dean learned a lot of lessons that summer, most of them the hard way.  The first thing he had learned was that sleep left him vulnerable.  He needed to be able to wake instantly, and shake off any lingering grogginess immediately.  

It was a lesson that first saved his life when a nest of vampires had learned that he and John were in town.  They'd caught the Hunters' scent and tracked them back to their motel.  If Dean and John had not been able to snap out of a dead sleep, they would have been just plain dead.  And since then it had saved his life countless times.  He'd learned to sleep hard when he needed it, but he always snapped awake instantly at the slightest sound. 

But now, that skill seemed to have disappeared.  He drifted comfortably in darkness, warm and comfortable and relaxed.  He was aware of someone humming nearby, but it didn't seem very important.  He took a deep breath through his nose, and stretched both arms above his head.  That's when the smell hit him.   

He recognized the familiar scent of herbs and flowers, but above that was the sweet scent of baking bread and the sharp tang of garlic and tomatoes.  His stomach growled loudly, and his mouth began to water, and his eyes blinked open slowly.  His eyes wandered first from the white ceiling to the walls decorated with wreaths and garlands, and the nearby window draped with pale, gauzy curtains.  It wasn't his room in Uncle Bobby's house, and it wasn't the cheap motel he'd checked into almost a week before. 

That realization was what finally snapped him awake.  He sat bolt upright, then had to rest his head in his hands when a bout of dizziness swept through him. 

"I hope you like pasta.  I don't really have much else available until I get to the store." 

Dean's head jerked up at the gruff voice and he immediately regretted it when the dizziness increased.  "What the hell did you do to me?" He gritted out between clenched teeth. 

A mug, held in strong hands with long graceful fingers, appeared in his sight.  "Here, this should help." 

Dean leaned away from the offering and looked up at the other man warily.  "I'm not drinking that." 

The man huffed and rolled his eyes.  "It's not poison.  It's just mint tea with honey."  When Dean made no move to accept the offering, he lifted it to his own lips.  He drank deeply enough that Dean could see a film of liquid clinging to his upper lip when he lowered the cup.   

Dean pretended not to enjoy the sight of the man's pink tongue flicking out to lick it away. 

The man held the tea out again, but Dean shook his head and leaned further away.  "That doesn't prove anything, man.  I've seen The Princess Bride." 

A wrinkle appeared between the man's brows and he tilted his head in confusion.  "I'm not sure what you're referencing," he turned his frown down at the cup as if it might hold an explanation.  "But I assure you, the tea will help the dizziness pass." 

It was on the tip of his tongue to explain about iocane powder, but Dean clamped down on the urge.  "I'll deal.  Thanks."   

The man's frown deepened with disapproval, but he didn't insist.  Instead he set the mug on a small table next to the couch Dean was sitting on and changed the subject.  "What is your name?" 

A quick mental inventory told him that his weapons were gone, and apparently his amulet did not protect him from this witch's powers.  If this guy wanted to smite him, he was effectively fucked.  He knew all this, but Dean was nothing if not contrary when he was cornered.  And he was definitely feeling cornered at the moment.  That's why, instead of playing nice, he snapped "What's yours?" 

"Castiel." His lips, which still kept grabbing Dean's attention, tilted up in a small smile.  "But you knew that, Dean." 

If Dean had fur at the moment, his hackles would have gone up.  "And you know my name.  So why ask?" 

Castiel's eyes sparkled with humor.  "Conversation is usually polite, isn't it?" 

"I have no reason to be polite to a witch," Dean bit out.  There was no need to dance around it.  Castiel obviously knew who he was.  It wasn't a huge leap of logic to think that he knew why Dean was there as well. 

Castiel nodded, conceding the point, but the amusement still had not faded from his expression.  "And I have no reason to be polite to a trespasser, but here I am, making an effort."  A timer went off in the kitchen, pulling his attention away.  He stood and smiled down at Dean.  "As well as dinner."  He gestured with his fingers for Dean to follow him, and walked away without waiting to see if he would or not. 

Dean didn't move immediately.  He took in his surroundings, hoping he would see where Castiel had stashed his weapons.  He didn't expect to find them, but he was still disappointed when there was no sign of where they were hidden.  He scowled, torn about what to do.  He wanted to finish this hunt.  But his best option was to get the hell out of there now, while Castiel was not paying attention. 

He threw the patch quilt that had been draped over his legs over the back of the couch, and discovered that his feet were bare.  That wouldn't really stop him from escaping, but it might slow him down a little.  He didn't hesitate to look for his boots, though.  He needed to get the hell out of there now. 

Padding silently across the hardwood floor, Dean snuck past the kitchen and down the hall to the front of the house.  He winced as he pulled open the door, hoping Castiel didn't hear the squeak of hinges, but he didn't slow down one bit.  Once he was out the door, he leapt off the low porch and sprinted toward the gate in the fence. 

And ran right into a barrier. 

The invisible wall gave slightly, but still had enough resistance to knock Dean back onto his ass.  "Sonofabitch!" He hissed.  The bastard had him trapped! 

He scrambled back to his feet and pressed his palms against the barrier.  It didn't feel completely solid.  It was more like solid jello.  When he pushed, he could almost feel ripples spreading outward even though he could see nothing.  The barrier was completely hidden.   

Movement across the street caught his attention.  A woman across the street was coming out of her house and walking toward the mailbox on the curb.  He didn't want to endanger her, but if he could get her to call someone and let them know that he was stuck, he could at least hope for backup.  "Hey!" He said it loud enough to carry across the street, and hoped it wouldn't draw Castiel's attention.   

The woman didn't even look up.  Dean tried again, a little louder.  "Hey, lady!" 

Still nothing.   

"She can't hear you.  She wouldn't see you if she looked over here, either." 

Dean spun around.  Castiel stood on the porch, wiping his hands with a small towel.  He looked completely unconcerned, and that set off warning bells.  Most witches were cocky.  They smirked and bragged about their power over him.  But this guy just looked at him patiently, waiting for Dean to speak first. 

"How are you doing this?" Dean waved a hand at the barrier. 

Castiel tilted his head again.  "With magic." 

Dean ground his teeth together.  He didn't want to reveal the ace up his sleeve, but the fact that Castiel's magic was affecting him despite the amulet was confusing the hell out of him.  Deciding he didn't need to specify why, Dean clarified his question.  "I should be immune to magic.  Why does your magic work on me?" 

"Immune?" Castiel frowned, and stepped down off the porch.  The blue of his eyes changed in the sunlight, making them seem to glow slightly as he approached.  They traced over Dean curiously.  He stopped when he was far too close and stared up into Dean's eyes.  He spoke as if to himself.  "That would explain why you look like a human.  How does it work?" 

Dean didn't answer.  He wanted to step back, but that would put his back right against the barrier and he was already feeling uncomfortably trapped.  "What do you mean?  About the..." he flailed his fingers in a gesture that encompassed himself, but didn't know how to complete the question. 

Castiel's eyes were traveling over him again.  "You're a Familiar aren't you?  I can feel it, but I can't sense what kind you are.  There is something blocking it." 

Dean blinked.  In all the years he had been hunting witches this had never come up before.  Even though there had been a few weaker witches that he had questioned to see if they knew how to break the curse.  Not once had anyone sensed anything strange about him.  Unless they just didn't mention it, but they sure had talked about a lot of other things when Dean questioned them.  "Uh... I'm human." He said slowly.  "But I'm cursed."  Admitting that was probably dangerous, but this was the closest he'd ever come to finding a way to cure himself.   

Realization transformed Castiel's face.  His mouth formed a silent O and he nodded to himself.  "I see." 

"Can you-" Dean licked his suddenly dry lips and tried again.  "Can you break the curse?" 

Castiel smiled at him again.  "Come inside and have dinner, and we'll discuss it."  He didn't wait for an answer.  He turned and walked back into the house, not waiting to see if Dean followed him. 

Uncertainty kept Dean in place until he saw Castiel disappear inside.  He was torn between trying to find a way out of the cage he'd been trapped in, and running after the witch and demanding that he spill everything he knew about the curse.  In the end, it was the grumbling of his stomach that finally made his decision.  There was still a chance that Castiel was just softening him up to make him easier to murder, but he doubted it.  Castiel was obviously strong enough to get past the amulet's protection, and if nothing else he could have stabbed Dean or smashed his head in while he was asleep.  Instead he'd offered him tea and dinner. 

Dean sighed and made his way into the house.  The scent of pasta reached him just inside the door and he sighed again.  He really hoped the food wasn't poisoned, because it smelled delicious and he was starving.   

When Dean entered the kitchen, Castiel glanced up from where he was setting the small table that was only large enough for two.  He smiled and went to the stove to pull out a loaf of golden garlic bread. 

"Smells good," Dean admitted reluctantly.  "Good thing I'm not a vampire... that much garlic would kill me." 

Castiel paused in slicing the bread and cocked his head to the side in a gesture that was starting to become familiar.  "Garlic won't kill a vampire." 

"No, I know that.  I-" Dean rolled his eyes slightly.  "Nevermind." 

He fidgeted in his seat while Castiel piled pasta and sauce onto plates along with several slices of buttery garlic bread.  For some reason he felt like he should be helping, but that was ridiculous.   

The pulse of magic that had pulled him into the house in the first place was still an itch under his skin, but it had mellowed.  Now he just felt like he needed to walk across the room and stand next to Castiel. 

Dean didn’t know what the the fuck that was all about, but he did his best to ignore it.  When Castiel set the plate down in front of him, he smiled and murmured a quiet thank you.  Dean had some manners, even though it felt strange to use them with a witch. 

They ate in silence for a few minutes, which was good because Dean was sure that this was the best pasta he’d ever had in his life.  It almost seemed like a crime to interrupt eating it with conversation.  He couldn’t hold back a small moan when he bit into the garlic bread.   

Castiel was looking down at his own meal, but Dean did not miss his smile.  He swallowed and poked at the noodles on his plate for a moment, trying to stop thinking about Castiel’s lips.  “You, uh… mentioned something about a familiar earlier? 

“That’s what you are,” Castiel said softly.  He twirled his fork in his pasta, but didn’t lift it to his mouth.  Instead he squinted at Dean as if he were trying to see something.  “An unbonded Familiar if I’m reading your aura correctly.  It’s hard to say for sure because something is blocking me.  You said that you were immune to magic?  Maybe whatever it is you’re using to protect yourself is shielding you from my sight.  How are you doing that?” 

Dean scoffed.  “I’m not doing it.  I’ve got a charm that protects me.” 

“Interesting.” Castiel finally stuffed the huge roll of noodles into his mouth and studied Dean as he chewed.  Dean was just about to reprimand him for the creepy staring, he swallowed and spoke again.  “Will you take it off so I can see your true form?” 

Dean pointed his fork in Castiel’s direction.  “First of all, no.  And second-” he turned the fork toward himself and swirled it in a circle, “this _is_ my true form.” 

“You were born human.” It wasn’t a question.  Castiel’s eyes unfocused as if he were looking inward.  “So you were turned.  That is a very old curse.” 

Excitement had Dean leaning forward over the table, meal forgotten.  “You know what this is?  Does that mean you know how to reverse it?” 

“I think so,” Castiel said slowly.  “But to be sure, I really would need to see you without your protection charm.” 

Dean’s heart was pounding as if he had run miles, and each breath sawed in and out of his lungs.  This was it.  He had finally found a lead on how to break his curse.  But he would have to trust this witch in order to learn more.   

Was it worth it? 

He thought of the guilt in Sam’s eyes that had lasted for years after he’d accidentally cursed Dean.  He still saw a flash of it in his little brother’s eyes sometimes, no matter how many times Dean tried to convince him that he was forgiven.  He thought of Gordon, and how their friendship had been ruined by Dean’s paranoia.  He thought of Bobby, standing up against John when he first found out that Dean was a shapeshifter and had been considering killing him before anyone could explain the curse to him.  

He thought of that one time he turned into a mouse and got cornered by a cat until Sammy could bring him his amulet.  That had sucked ass, and it was something he would be happy to never repeat. 

“Okay,” he breathed.  Then a little louder.  “Okay, I can… I can show you.”  Dinner forgotten, he pushed his chair back and stood next to the table.  He reached up with both hands, and lifted the amulet over his head.  Then he held it for a moment when one last rush of uncertainty swept through him.  Until he let it go, he wouldn’t turn.  He stared hard at Castiel, hoping for a sign that this was the right thing to do. 

Castiel’s eyes brightened with curiosity and he straightened in his chair.  One hand still held his fork, pasta noodles hanging from the tines, and the other rested next to his plate.  Despite his increased attention, he looked relaxed and non-threatening.  Dean noticed for the first time that he was wearing a loose linen tunic and ripped jeans.  He was barefoot, and his toes were curled into the wood of the floor.  His hair stood out in all directions as if he ran his fingers through it constantly, and he never looked in a mirror. 

He looked like a hippy.  And hippies were more likely to offer him a joint than do him any harm.  Dean knew he was rationalizing, but it was the idea of Castiel toking it up in a drum circle that finally sparked a little bit of something that wasn’t quite trust, but was enough to let him set the necklace down on the floor where he could reach it when he was ready to end this little Show and Tell game. 

As soon as his fingers slipped away from the cord, he could feel the magic spread through him.  It felt like an itch and a tingle and an ache all at once.  He had just a fleeting sensation of whiskers before the shift started, and he knew he was going to end up a cat. 

There was a rushing sensation, and everything around him swirled and grew and in the next instant, Dean was on all fours, looking up at Castiel.  He twitched his whiskers and flipped his tail in irritation.  He would have preferred to be a dog again.  Sure, he knew how to use the claws curving dangerously out of his paws, but he would have felt better if he could have strong jaws and teeth to bite Castiel if he tried anything funny. 

Castiel’s eyes widened and that faint glow emanated from them again even though this time they were not in the sunlight.  And the fact that he could still tell that Castiel’s eyes were blue was odd since he couldn’t really see colors when he turned into a cat.   

“Gods,” Castiel murmured reverently.  “You’re beautiful.” 

 _Uh, thanks buddy_ , Dean thought irritably.   

Castiel laughed.  “You still sound like you, though.” 

Dean’s tail paused and his ears rotated forward.   _You can hear me?_ He’d only ever been able to communicate with Sam before. 

“Of course,” Castiel replied, as if it should be obvious.  He reached down and ran a fingertip up the center of Dean’s forehead.   

Oh, that felt _good._  Dean leaned into the touch, and Castiel took it as an invitation to run his palm from Dean’s forehead all the way down his back.  It felt amazing, and Dean arched into it.   

Castiel petted him a few more times before Dean realized what he was allowing.  He hissed and batted at Castiel’s hand, and whipped his tail back and forth warningly.   

“Sorry,” Castiel said with a smile.  “You seemed to like it though.” 

 _I did not,_ Dean grumbled. 

“You were purring.” 

If Dean had been human, he’s sure his face would have been flaming with embarrassment.  Instead, his tail just flipped harder and faster.  He decided to ignore what had happened and get back to the important questions.   _So have you seen what you needed to see?  Can I change back now?_  

Instead of answering, Castiel leaned down and picked up the amulet.  Dean hissed again, and tried to claw at his hand to get him to drop it.  Castiel gave him a chiding look and evaded his claws easily.  “Calm down, Dean.  I’m just going to look at it for a moment.  I promise to give it back.” 

Dean made an effort to stay calm.  He settled down on his haunches and watched Castiel closely.  If the fucker made any move to take off with the amulet, he was going to get a leg full of claws and teeth.  He glared at Castiel, flattening his ears and flipping his tail in a silent warning.   

Castiel ignored him as he turned the pendant over in his fingers.  “This is crude, but I can see now how it works.” 

 _Why doesn’t it work on you?_ Dean demanded. 

Castiel slanted an amused look at him.  “It’s only designed to block black magic.  That’s not the kind I use, so the charm is ineffective against my powers.” 

 _What the fuck does that mean?_  

“It means I’m a white witch, Dean.  I use the power of life, instead of the power of death.” 

Dean’s tail slowed and his ears relaxed as he let that sink in.   _So, what?  You’re some kind of Glinda the Good Witch?”_  

The comment confused Castiel and he did that little head tilt again.  Dean refused to admit to himself that he thought it was kind of cute.  Castiel apparently decided not to ask for clarification.  Instead he addressed one of Dean’s earlier questions.  “I’ve seen what I needed to.  You can turn back now.” 

_I need to put the necklace back on._

Castiel nodded and leaned down to drape the cord around Dean’s neck.  The itch/tingle/ache washed through him again, the world tilted crazily, and color bled back into everything.  And then Dean was looking down at Castiel instead of up.  “Thanks,” he grumbled.  His body felt twitchy, and unbalanced.  Being unable to swing his tail around in frustration just added to his discomfort.  He sat back down in his chair.  “So?  Can you break the curse?” 

“I can.” 

Dean’s whole body sagged.  Thank god.   _Finally._  

“But I’m not sure why I should.” 

And just like that, Dean was sitting ramrod straight again.  “What?  Of course you should.” 

“Why?” And there was the head tilt again.  He could give Sam a run for his money on the whole puppy face gig. 

Dean opened his mouth.  The first thing that came to mind was a threat, but he knew that wouldn’t do him any good.  He was unarmed, and he had no protection against Castiel’s magic if he decided to use it against him.  “Because you’re a white witch, right?” He was grasping at straws, and he knew it.  “Doesn’t that mean you’re a good guy?  Use your magic for helping people and shit?” 

“I like to think of myself as a good guy, yes,” Castiel replied with a smile.  “But you don’t seem to believe that, since you did come here to kill me.  It doesn’t exactly put you in my good graces.” 

“So… what, then?  You were going to just feed me dinner as punishment?” Dean gestured at his nearly empty plate.  “Kinda not working, man.” 

Castiel chuckled and shook his head.  “I was hoping to convince you with kindness that you don’t need to kill me.  I’m no threat to anyone unless they are a threat to me.”  That last was said in a tone threaded with steel, the threat of retaliation very clear. 

“So if I promise not to kill you, will you lift the curse?” Dean demanded.  “Or do you want something?  I can get money, if you want money.  It may take me some time, but-” 

Castiel waved a hand to stop him.  “I don’t want your money, Dean.  I have everything I need.”  He stared at Dean thoughtfully for a moment while Dean silently fumed and tried to think of something else he could offer the witch.  “We could make a deal, though,” he said after a moment. 

If Dean still had fur, it would be puffed out.  He leaned back in his chair.  “I don’t make deals.” 

“I’m not a demon, Dean.” Castiel rolled his eyes in disgust.  “There will be no bargaining for your soul.  Just a fair trade.  A service for a service.” 

Dean stared at him.  Castiel didn’t want his soul.  He didn’t want money.  But there was obviously something that he did want.  The question was whether or not it was something Dean would be willing to part with.  “Okay,” he finally said.  “I’m listening.” 

Castiel’s smile lit up his whole face.  He looked genuinely delighted.  “Stay here with me as my Familiar until Winter Solstice.  Get to know me.  At the end of the season, I will break the curse and you can go free.” 

“That’s it?” There was a catch.  There had to be a catch.  That was way too simple.   

“Well as my Familiar, I’ll require your assistance with a spell now and then.”   

There it was.  There was the catch.  “Dude, I’m not going to help you with spells.” 

Castiel’s smile slipped and gave Dean a disappointed look.  “It would just be with weather regulation and possibly a healing or two.  I could have done something about the lack of snowfall last winter if I’d had a Familiar to assist me.” 

Well that didn’t sound too bad.  “We won’t have to do sacrifices, or find babies’ fingers to do any of this, right?” 

Castiel wrinkled his nose.  “That’s disgusting, Dean.  And it’s not how my magic works.” 

“Okay,” Dean held up his hands, palms out in a gesture of surrender.  “Sorry, man.  I don’t know anything about white magic.” 

“I’ll teach you.” 

Dean didn’t want to know anything about any kind of magic unless it was something that would break his curse.  But he didn’t want to piss Castiel off and make him change his mind so he kept that to himself.  “And as your Familiar, what would I be required to do exactly?” 

“I just need your presence to focus me.  It will allow me to work larger amounts of magic without becoming fatigued too quickly.” 

“Just my presence?  No song or dance or clips of my fur?”   

“Just your presence.” 

Dean stared hard at Castiel, trying to find the lie in his words.  It still sounded dangerously simple.  There had to be some risk involved, but he just couldn’t think of the right questions to ask.  He wished now that he had studied magic with Sam and Uncle Bobby so he could understand what Castiel was asking of him.  One thing did occur to him, though.  “Will I have to stay an animal?” The longest he’d ever stayed in animal form was half a day.  He wasn’t sure how well he’d handle going without opposable thumbs for several months.   

“No,” Castiel shook his head to emphasize his answer.  “Just during spell casting.  Unless you wanted to, but I’m betting you’d prefer your human form most of the time.” 

“Damn straight.” 

They sat in silence, watching each other.  Dean weighing the pros and cons, and Castiel patiently waiting for him to make his decision. 

“What if I say no?” Dean finally asked. 

“Then you are free to leave,” Castiel said.  “But I will wipe your memory of this place, and if you ever find me again, I’ll kill you.” 

Dean nodded.  There was the threat he was looking for.  Somehow it made everything else fall into place.  “Alright,” he said.  “I’ll stay.” 

Castiel’s face lit up with pleasure.  “Wonderful!” He slapped his hands together, but instead of the clap Dean expected to hear there was a loud crack and a rumble.  “Then we have a deal.” 

“What was that?” 

“A contract spell,” Castiel answered as he stood up and began to clear off the table.  “I am bound to my word and cannot back out.”  He carried the dishes to the sink and looked over his shoulder.  “Would you like some dessert?  I’ve got some apple pie.” 

A magic spell forcing the witch to keep his word, _and_ pie?  Dean suspected this might just be his lucky day.  “Sure,” he said, leaning back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since he’d woken up on the couch.  “Apple’s my favorite.” 

Now he just had to figure out how he was going to explain to Jo why she shouldn’t send every hunter she could find to rescue him.  But he still had a few hours until he had to call her.  He could enjoy some pie while he figured it out. 


	4. Calling the Family

Dean helped clean up after dinner. Now that Castiel was no longer number one on his To Kill list, he felt like he should put at least a little effort into being a proper guest. He insisted on doing the dishes after Castiel had put away the leftovers, and Castiel had conceded with an amused grin. It didn't occur to Dean until after he'd put the last dish in the drying rack what that smile had meant.

He found Castiel sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for him. "You could have just magicked the mess away, right?"

Castiel smiled, but didn't answer, which was an answer in itself. "I'm sorry I don't have a spare bedroom for you to stay in." He patted the cushion next to his hip. "But the couch is a pullout, and is fairly comfortable."

"You mean I have to stay here?" Dean hadn't realized that was part of the bargain.

Guilt flashed across Castiel's expression. "I'm sorry. I should have made that clear. You can still back out if you don't feel comfortable here though."

"I've got a motel room a couple miles away. I could sleep there at night and come back in the morning."

"It would be best if you stay here." Castiel shook his head and looked out the window. "Having you nearby as much as possible will increase our link. If it is too weak, then we will be of no good to each other."

Dean didn't like the sound of this connection Castiel was talking about. "Wait, what link?"

Castiel wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "Witches and Familiars share their power by bonding with each other."

Neither one of them said anything while Dean let that sink in. Castiel watched him expectantly. On the surface he looked calm, but Dean could see how tense he was. Not only could he see it, but he could feel it. The steady pulse of magic that emanated from the witch had melted into the background of Dean's attention, but Castiel's unease changed the cadence. It no longer felt like an even pulse. It was like listening to live music and one of the instruments was off by half a beat.

It made Dean want to sooth Castiel, and he didn't know what to do with that feeling. He didn't trust Castiel, and he certainly didn't want to become friends with him. So he had no idea why his first impulse was to reassure the man who had enough power to incinerate Dean on the spot without leaving a single smudge of soot on the hardwood floor.

And worse, the idea of some kind of connection with Castiel made him jumpy. What if it was permanent? What if that was the real catch to this deal? In the end he'd be allowed to leave, but he wouldn't want to? Was he going to get stuck here? "You need to tell me exactly what that means, Cas."

Castiel took a deep breath and stood, coming to stand too close to Dean. The guy didn't seem to understand the concept of personal space, but Dean wasn't going to back down. "You feel it already, don't you?" He asked, his voice low and gruff in a way that Dean wished he didn't find attractive. "I can feel how uneasy the idea of the link makes you. That is the connection. We become attuned to each other. When it is strong, we will be able to sense each other's emotions, and how far we are from each other. Among other things, but those usually do not manifest without a full bond."

"And what exactly is a 'full bond'?" Dean asked.

Castiel's eyes were very blue, almost glowing again. "The most profound version of the bond mates the souls of the Witch and the Familiar together. Breaking it would kill them."

Now Dean stepped back, holding his hands out defensively. "Whoa. That is not- I don't- Why the fuck didn't you tell me that before?"

"It's not going to happen unless we chose to allow it," Castiel explained. "It must be a mutual decision."

"What if it happens on accident?" Dean's voice came out higher pitched than usual and he cleared his throat. "If being together makes this link stronger..." he trailed off and made a swirling gesture with his hands telling him to guess the rest.

Castiel reached out to touch Dean, but froze when Dean jerked away from him. He slowly lifted his hand away, holding it up in a non-threatening gesture. "I assure you, Dean. It cannot happen by accident. There is a ritual and a spell involved."

Dean glared at Castiel as he mulled that over. He was angry that he hadn't been told this before he'd been given his agreement. But he still wasn't ready to back out of his part of the bargain. He wanted the curse lifted, and if he had to put up with Castiel knowing his emotions, then he was still willing to go ahead with it. It didn't really matter if he stayed here or in the motel anyway. At least staying here would save him some cash. And if anything, having this ability to sense each other's emotions might come in handy. If Castiel decided that Dean wasn't worth his time, maybe he'd at least get some kind of advance warning from the link and he could get the hell out of there.

"Alright," he conceded gruffly. "But I need to get my shit from the motel and bring it back here."

The uneven cadence of the half-formed link smoothed out and Dean felt some of the tension leave his own muscles at the same time Castiel's shoulders relax. That was weird as fuck, and he hoped he got used to it quick.

"You'll need these." Castiel waved his hand in a tiny flourish and he was holding Dean's boots. Another wave, and Dean's missing weapons appeared on the end table next to the couch.

Dean's eyes widened. Had his weapons been there the whole time? If he'd known they were there, could he have grabbed them through whatever illusion had been hiding them? Remembering how ineffective they'd been against Castiel, he realized they would have done him little good. But picking up his gun and checking the load still comforted him slightly, as did slipping his knives back in their hiding places.

"Do you always go about armed that heavily?" Castiel asked as he handed over Dean's boots.

He grunted an agreement as he sat down and began pulling his boots on. "Never know when you're going to run into a monster," he explained. "There are more of them out there than you'd believe."

Castiel hummed his understanding. "It's true that the world is a dangerous place. I tend to forget sometimes because I do my best to ward my home town."

Dean straightened from the couch and dug his keys out of his pockets. He quirked an eyebrow at Castiel. "That's... pretty awesome I guess." He hadn't expected that from a witch, but then again, nothing about Castiel had met any of his expectations.

Castiel merely smiled happily at the compliment and nodded. "When you come back, park in the driveway. It'll keep your car within the protection spell so you won't have to worry about anyone tampering with it." His smile widened. "Or bird droppings."

That little flash of humor was enough to pull a laugh out of Dean. He chuckled and shook his head. "Ok, that's pretty cool." Then he remembered the invisible barrier around the house and sobered. "Will I be able to get in and out, or do you have to use your mojo each time?"

"You may come and go at will, Dean." Castiel turned as he spoke and began walking toward the front of the house. Dean followed him out onto the porch and watched him make another small flourish with his fingers. "I've told it you are a guest and it will no longer deter you."

Dean turned to frown down at Castiel. "What kind of barrier spell let's someone in, but doesn't let them out?"

Castiel shifted uncomfortably and wouldn't quite meet Dean's eyes. "That's how I designed it."

Dean narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push. He didn't feel anything other than embarrassment coming from the other man, so he didn't think the reasoning was anything malicious. He assumed it was probably because if a neighbor decided to come visit they would probably freak out about running into an invisible wall. He shrugged to indicate that he was willing to let it go for now and strode toward the opening in the fence. "I'll be back in about an hour," he said.

He didn't actually need that long just to pick up his things, but he still had to call Jo. He was going to need the time to figure out what he was going to say to convince her not to send in the cavalry.

\----

Castiel watched the sway of Dean's retreating body appreciatively. The man swayed as he walked. It wasn’t feminine in the least, though. In fact, even walking away the loose-limbed stroll looked threatening, almost feral. Instead of making Castiel wonder if he’d done the right thing inviting a Hunter into his home, it made him want to press up against that body and rock into him.

He shook his head to free it of those thoughts. He'd done his best to cover his interest in the man since he'd awakened from the sleep spell. It had only taken a brief touch for Castiel to learn a few things about his uninvited guest.

He'd learned that Dean had purchased the gun he'd pointed at Castiel on a whim because he'd thought it was beautiful. He'd heard the echo of Dean's laughter over some prank he'd played on someone... a younger brother maybe? And he'd felt the pride Dean felt when he looked at his car and remembered the time he'd spent restoring it to glory.

Castiel only caught glimpses of Dean through that touch. A memory here, a random thought or emotion there. But one thing he'd caught quite clearly was that Dean was uncomfortable about thinking Castiel had pretty eyes. The last thing Castiel needed was to give Dean any more reasons to run away from him, so he would make an effort to keep his own attraction to the Hunter hidden.

It had been a shock to receive any of those images at all. It had been centuries since he'd made that kind of connection with anyone without consciously seeking it. He had the ability to see souls, and to read them, but he'd learned to keep up walls around that part of his own mind long ago. It protected him in more ways that one. It made people less likely to hate him for knowing their secrets, but it also kept him from being overwhelmed by an overabundance of information. He tended to stay away from crowded areas anyway, just in case. In fact, he preferred to be solitary just to avoid complications with his powers. It made his people skills somewhat rusty, but he was content with that.

Dean's soul had punched straight through Castiel's walls, and he'd almost swooned along with Dean. What he'd sensed had been powerful, golden and beautiful. He’d wanted to feel it again immediately and had to force himself to touch Dean as little as possible. When Dean had shifted into his cat form, Castiel had been unable to resist one more touch, stroking the silky black fur until Dean had reprimanded him for it. Touching Dean felt like touching fire, but without being burned, and Castiel hoped to be allowed to do it again.

The growl of an engine announced that Dean was driving away, and Castiel felt his presence gradually fade. It left him feeling empty and cast adrift. He worried at how much he already missed the Hunter. Would he be able to let go when it was time for Dean to leave?

Troubled, Castiel turned to go back into his house. He dug out the mobile phone his brother had insisted he keep despite the fact that Castiel didn't speak to anyone else on it. Luckily it still had a little bit of a charge on the battery, and he made a mental note to plug it in when he was done with it as he dialed Gabriel's number.

His brother picked up on the second ring. "Hey, bro! How's it hanging?"

"I found a Familiar." Castiel had never been one for small talk.

There was a rattling sound, and Castiel imagined his brother flailing around to sit up. If he knew his brother, and he hoped he did after a thousand years, Gabriel was probably sprawled on a lounge chair beside a pool or an ocean. He loved being near water. "Are you serious? That's great!"

Familiars were rare creatures. A witch could live a thousand years and never find one. And even then, they may not resonate well together and never be compatible to bond. For Castiel to have found one at all was a great feat. "He was not born a Familiar," he told his brother. "He was turned into one."

There was a pause on the other end of the line while Gabriel absorbed that information. Being able to create Familiars was an art that had been lost millennia ago. "Are you going to find out who did it?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to use the same spell that turned Dean," Castiel said as he traced his fingers over the dishes Dean had washed and left in the drying rack. He could sense just a hint of Dean's aura in the ceramic plates. "It's a curse. And he has no control over his ability to change, nor does he have a single form that he shifts into. It's very chaotic."

"Huh. Still might be useful."

"Gabriel..."

"Calm down, bro. I'm not going to the dark side any time soon." There was a smacking sound, and when Gabriel spoke again, his words were distorted by what was probably a sucker stuffed in his cheek. "I'm just saying, we can't all be lucky enough to have a Familiar wander into our life."

"He walked right through my barrier," Castiel said, unable to contain the awe in his voice. "There's already a link." He hadn't been able to explain to Dean the significance of that. Anyone who came near his yard was immediately repulsed, turning away without even remembering that his house was there. The barrier only allowed animals and insects through. As a human, Dean should have also been turned away. But the barrier had recognized him and let him through.

Gabriel's voice pulled his attention back to the phonecall. "So when are you going to bond him?"

"Oh," Castiel muttered. "I'm not."

"Are you out of your mind??"

Castiel pulled the phone away from his ear and winced at the volume of his brother's protest. Gingerly he put it back to his ear. "Calm down, Gabriel. If he asks for the bond, I will do it. But I won't take him unwillingly. It needs to be his choice."

There was a long sigh across the line. "You take this white witch stuff to the extreme, Cassie. This guy walked right up and said hello, man. You gotta admit, that sounds like fate."

The idea that it was fate made Castiel slightly uncomfortable. He had always believed there was a higher power moving in the background, aligning events like pieces on a chessboard. It was the entity that he had worshipped as a young man, and had pledged his soul to when he had taken up his first spell book. But he also believed that men chose their own path. "But I won't take away his choice," he protested.

"You and that Free Will bullshit," Gabriel sighed again, but there was humor in his voice. "I don't know where you learned that from."

"I believe I learned it from you," Castiel pointed out. "You were the one who suggested I make my own path in life instead of taking the one Father had planned for me."

"Yeah, and I think it'll take me another thousand years to get over being surprised you listened to me." Gabriel and Castiel were the youngest sons of a devout Christian Baron, born near the beginning of what people now called The Dark Ages. With three older brothers in line to inherit, Gabriel and Castiel had been promised to the church.

Gabriel had run away from home to avoid that life. And when he had come back, he had offered to show Castiel what he had learned while he was away. Castiel had been afraid at first. Witchcraft was evil, after all. But he had been unable to resist the allure of being able to heal and nurture. The life of a white witch was just as dangerous as that of a black witch, but he and Gabriel had survived countless witch hunts over the centuries. They had seen the world grow and change around them. And would continue to see more as well, as long as some Hunter didn't catch them off guard and end their lives in a blink.

Castiel frowned as he thought of Dean's profession. If one Hunter had found him, another would as well. He may need to relocate his home, and soon.

"So you're just going to let him go?" Gabriel prompted.

"Not exactly," Castiel said. "I offered to break the curse if he would stay with me and allow me to use his power until the Winter Solstice. I'm hoping he will choose to stay."

"For your sake, I hope so."

Castiel smiled at the concern in his brother's voice. Gabriel was obnoxious and brash, and most of the time Castiel was glad that he decided to spend most of his time traveling the world. Castiel had always been the quiet introverted brother, and Gabriel often grated on his nerves. But his brother loved him, and he appreciated these little reminders. It was easy to forget that he wasn't alone in this world. "I should go. He'll be back soon."

"Good luck, bro!" Gabe made kissy noises and ended the call.

Castiel let out a slow breath and put the phone away, completely forgetting that he was planning on charging it. He was going to need all the luck he could get.

\----

Dean looked around the motel room for the Nth time, checking to make sure he wasn't leaving something behind. Of course he hadn't, because he typically traveled light and everything he needed was in the duffle near the door or in the trunk of his Impala. But he was procrastinating over calling Jo. He could just tell her that he'd killed the witch, but she had an uncanny knack for knowing when he was full of shit, even over the phone. He had to tell her something that wouldn't freak her out. The last thing he needed was for a bunch of Hunters to descend on him and Cas because Jo decided he was in danger.

Finally, after his millionth round through the room, he pulled out his phone and punched in her number. He paced anxiously in the small space the room allowed for him to do so while it rang.

"Hey, Winchester. This had better be a good news kind of call."

Dean smiled into the phone. "Hey, Jo."

"Oh good, you're alive." She didn't even sound concerned, the little shit. Dean didn't know whether to be irritated, or glad that she had that much faith in him. "You ready for another case? I can see if Ash has anything new for you."

"Uh, actually-"

"Oh shit, the witch got away? Do you need me to send someone out?" Now she sounded concerned. But at least she wasn't asking him if he was alright.

"No, Jo, don't send anyone else out here." That was the most important thing right now. "It turns out the guy isn't what we thought he was." That was sort of true.

Unfortunately that didn't throw Jo completely off the scent. "What is he, then?"

How to explain? He still wasn't sure how to convince her that what he was about to do was going to be a good idea. He sat down on the bed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay, so you know in the Wizard of Oz, how there's this good witch? And she asks Dorothy for help-"

"Dude I’ve seen that movie a million times. Of course I know. What the hell is your point?" Before he could answer, she connected the dots on her own. "Wait, are you saying this guy is a good witch?"

"Yeah, that's what I'm saying." Castiel was even pretty, but Dean didn't say that. Most witches were beautiful because they wanted to be, unlike the ones from the Oz stories where their outsides matched their insides. Man that would make his job a helluva lot easier if it were true in real life.

Jo was silent and he could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Dean, there's no such thing as a good witch."

"I know that, Jo." At least he was pretty sure that was the case. There was something about Castiel that made him doubt it, but since he couldn't explain why he felt that way, he wasn't going to admit it. "But he says he can break my curse."

She snorted in disbelief. "Okay, so assuming that's true. Why the hell would he do that for you?"

And here was the tricky part. He put on a charming smile even though she couldn't see him. "Maybe he's won over by my charm and beauty."

"Oh please," Jo scoffed. "I don't think so."

Dean scowled. "Hey, I'm adorable."

"Keep telling yourself that, chuckles."

It was Dean's turn to snort. "Yeah, and I love you too, Jo."

She ignored his sarcasm for once and got back to the point. "So what's the real deal, Dean-o? What does this guy want?"

This was the part Dean was afraid to talk about. This whole thing about being a Familiar was new to him, and he didn't completely understand the bond stuff and how exactly he was supposed to help Castiel. How the hell was he supposed to explain it to Jo? He definitely wasn't going to tell her about the link, especially the part about how he could still sense Castiel in the distance and that he was getting antsy to go back because he wanted to be closer to that pulse. When he'd started walking away from Castiel's house, an ache similar to homesickness had started in his chest and had only grown stronger as he'd driven away.

He hoped it worked like his animal senses when he turned back into a human and eventually faded. Worry that this might turn permanent in some way had him half convinced that he should back out of the agreement and just go on with his life. But the chance to break this curse was just too good to pass up.

So he was going to have to lie. He was good at lying. It wasn't his fault that Jo was a freak and could always tell. Dammit, he was going to have to go with vague answers and hope she'd let it go. "I'm going to help him out with a few things."

"What things?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"Dean-"

"Joanna Beth."

They both went silent for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to get what they wanted. They both had an equal chance of out-stubborning each other, and Dean bit his lip and hoped that this time was his turn.

Jo sighed. "Fine. Don't tell me. But I expect regular check-ins or I'm telling my mother what's going on."

At least she wasn't threatening to tell his dad. If John Winchester got wind of this, Dean and Castiel would both be hip deep in shit. He almost sighed in relief, but he didn't want Jo to think she'd given in too easily. "I'm not a twelve year old going to summer camp," he bit out.

"Then quit bitching like one. Call me every Friday by noon, Dean-o, or I'm sending out the cavalry."

He grumbled for a few minutes but finally conceded. She let him off the phone, and he grabbed his duffel bag before heading to the motel office to check out. When he got in the car and started driving in Castiel's direction, he tried to ignore how quickly the homesick feeling was fading.

\-----

Jo hung up and stared down at the phone. Dean seemed convinced that everything was going to be alright, but she wasn’t so sure. Even though Dean’s necklace had protected him from some pretty nasty magic in the past, she worried that some kind of enchantment had slipped through his protection and messed with his mind.

She’d give him the time he asked for. But if he started acting strange, or seemed like he wasn’t himself, she was going to head out to Utah herself and pull his ass out of there.

“Who was on the phone?” Ellen pushed through the door from the kitchen, carrying a crate of clean glasses and setting them down on the bar. She gave Jo an expectant look.

“That was Dean,” Jo answered. She forced a smile and hoped her mother couldn’t see right through it. “He said he’s going to be gone a little longer than he expected.”

Ellen sighed and rolled her eyes as she started taking the glasses out of the crate and stacking them under the bar. “That boy is pushing his luck hunting on his own like that. Just because his daddy does it, doesn’t mean it’s smart.”

“He’ll be fine, mom.” Jo would make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know.... I'm constantly bitching about coming up with fic titles. I have no idea why I thought it would be a good idea to name my chapters. Like, that was seriously poor judgement on my part. Please don't hate me for bad chapter titles. Maybe I'll change them later. I'm the author. I can do that. I'm totally allowed. Yes.
> 
> Also, when I first posted this I knew there would be sexin's eventually but I wasn't sure how explicit I would make the scenes. I'm honestly still not sure. I'll know when I get there, I guess. But this is your advance warning that I may change the fic rating from M to E at a later date.


	5. The Feeling is Mutual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit NSFW.

Driving back to Castiel’s, Dean began to have second thoughts.  “What the fuck am I doing?” he murmured as he pulled onto Castiel’s street.  He stopped at the end, in the same spot he’d been parked before.   

“What. The fuck.  Am I doing?” he said again.   

He stared at the lush yard, and tried to ignore the pulses of magic beckoning him to enter it.  Jo’s questions came back to him, and he knew she was right.  He had no way of knowing that Castiel was going to keep his end of the bargain.  He’d lived with the curse for years.  He could wait a little longer.  Sam and Bobby were still looking for a way to break it, and he was sure they could find it with just a little more time.   

His hand went up and gripped the pendant in his hand.  The horns dug into his palm, and he pulled.  The tether holding it around his neck was held on by a small knot.  All it would take was a sharp jerk and he could break it free.  He would stay human until he let the pendant go.  And then he would turn into an animal.  Maybe a bird, maybe a rat.  He’d been just about everything it seemed.  He still remembered the time he had been a rabbit and Sam had teased him about leaving him that way and running off to Vegas and pulling him out of a hat for money. 

What would happen if the pendant was lost?  Sam and Bobby had been unable to make another one.  He could be stuck as an animal.  Possibly until he forgot that he’d ever been human.   

Or he could trust this witch to keep his word.   

He imagined jerking the pendant off, and not shifting.  Throwing it out the window and still having the ability to turn the key in the ignition and drive away.   

No more late night drunk “I’m so sorry” messages from Sam.  No more hiding his nature from other hunters.   

His hand slipped from the pendant and he drove the last few yards to Castiel’s driveway.  He pulled in and turned off the engine.  Movement at the front of the house caught his attention and he looked over to see Castiel standing on the porch.   

“I guess I’m doing this,” he said to himself. 

Castiel tilted his head, narrowing his eyes, probably wondering what he’d said.  Dean turned away to hide his smile at the gesture, getting out of the car.  He went around to the back of the car and popped the trunk.  He resisted the temptation to pull out more weapons, and just grabbed the duffel that held his personal belongings.  He flung the strap over his shoulder and closed the trunk.  “I hope that couch is as comfortable as you say,” he said as he walked toward the porch.  “I gave up a perfectly good motel bed for you.” 

“My brother seems to like it.” Castiel turned and led the way back inside.  Dean felt a wave of something that felt like joy coming from him as he followed him into the house, and he wondered what was making him so happy. 

It was almost enough to distract him from Castiel’s words.  “Wait, you have a brother?” 

Castiel stopped next to the bed and began removing cushions.  “I had many brothers once.” He didn’t look up, but he stilled for a moment.  “All but one are gone from this world.” 

Dean was shocked to feel a thrum of sorrow from Castiel.  Partially because he still wasn't used to this weird connection, but also because he didn't really expect that from a witch.  He wanted to know more, but he wasn't sure exactly how to ask.  Tact had never been his strongest skill, although he did at least try to follow Sam's example.  He proved it when he asked the next question.  "How did they die?" 

 _Fuckin' really, Winchester?_ He accompanied the thought with a mental kick.  

But Castiel didn't seem to mind the question.  He pulled out the folded mattress, and started tucking fresh sheets around it as he spoke.  "Michael died in his sleep of old age, surrounded by this children and grandchildren." He smiled slightly at that memory.  "I was there as well, although I was disguised.  He would have called for my head otherwise." 

"You didn't get along?" Dean grabbed the sheets on his side of the bed and started helping as a way to keep his hands busy.  

Castiel cast a quick glance at him, just a flash of blue, but there was humor in the look.  "We got along well enough when I was young.  But he would not have approved of the path I took in life." 

"So he didn't know you were a witch?"   

Castiel shook his head and started putting some of the pillows from the couch at the head of the makeshift bed.  "No, but showing up at his bedside looking young enough to be his son would have clued him in." 

Dean couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.  "No kidding." 

The bed was made, but Castiel stood still and stared at it, as if the story he was about to tell was written on the pale blue cloth.  "My brothers Lucifer and Raphael died in battle.  I did not hear about it until years afterwards." 

Dean decided to ignore the fact that Castiel had a brother named Lucifer.  That was a can of worms he wasn't ready to open.  He focused instead on the rest of the story.  "In battle?  How long ago was this exactly?" 

Castiel finally looked up at him, and he was smiling wryly.  "Are you asking how old I am?" 

There was no use denying it.  "What, is that a taboo question to ask a witch?:”  He sat down on the edge of the mattress, bouncing a little to test it.  The last thing he wanted was for the fucking thing to fold up and try to break him in half.  

"A little, yes." Castiel looked around the room, as if he were searching for something.  Dean thought he was looking for a way to avoid the question, but after a moment he spoke.  "Calendars have changed more than once since I was born.  But it was some time in the mid to late tenth century as it is measured now." 

Dean's mouth sagged open.  That meant Castiel was over a thousand years old.  He'd heard of witches that were centuries old, and there were rumors that some were as old as Castiel claimed to be.  But he doubted he'd ever met one.  He usually hunted young housewives, or middle aged business men dabbling in the dark arts.  The idea that Castiel had survived so long... and how exactly did he do that anyway?  The only time Dean had ever met a really old witch had been a gambler who played poker for years off people's life spans, and taking him down had been a bitch.   

He had so many questions.  He wanted to know more about the brother that Castiel hinted was still alive.  He wanted to know why he turned to witchcraft.  How did he manage to look like he was in his early thirties?  Did he feel like a dirty old man for banging people Dean's age?  Would he even consider Dean as a possible lover?   _Where the fuck did that come from?_  

Castiel jerked slightly and turned wide eyes in Dean's direction, apparently sensing his mild panic.  "What is wrong, Dean?" 

Shit, he'd forgotten that the weird connection they shared went both ways.  He took a deep breath and willed his heart to slow down.  "Nothing," he muttered.  Castiel didn't look like he believed him if the way his brow was furrowed was any indication.  "Nothing's wrong, Cas.  I'm fine." 

Castiel moved around the side of the bed, stepping close and stopping near enough that if Dean spread his knees he could pull him forward and- he cut that thought right off.  He swallowed and leaned back a little.  "Dude, personal space." 

Instead of taking the warning and moving away, Castiel reached out to touch him.  "Dean I can feel your heart pounding.  If something is wrong-" his palm made contact with Dean's shoulder and he froze. 

Even through the double barrier of Dean's t-shirt and overshirt it felt like he was being burned.  The slight arousal Dean had been feeling at the thought of having sex with Castiel ratcheted up and they both sucked in a breath.  Dean stared up at Castiel who was staring right back at him with wide, slightly glowing eyes - and in the dim room, Dean could tell that they _were_ glowing, and it wasn't just a trick of the light.  There was something flowing between them- 

_Heat_

_Lust_

_Hunger_

 

It wasn't just Dean.  Castiel wanted him, too.  The longer the touch continued, the stronger the feelings were.  A flash of an image that Dean knew was from Castiel made him suck in a breath.  There was bare skin and hot hands and wet lips and- 

Castiel was the first one to jerk back, breathing hard and cradling his hand against his chest.  The glow faded from his eyes and he took a step back.  "I'm sorry, Dean, I-" he paused and stepped back a little further.  "That is not my intention toward you.  Please don't be afraid that I would disrespect your boundaries.  I just- I felt- I was going to make sure you weren't ill, and I-" 

Seeing how freaked out Castiel was about taking advantage of Dean made something inside him shift instantly toward forgiveness.  He could feel how worried Castiel was.  How upset he was that he had acted inappropriately.  Dean held up a hand to stop the flow of words.  "It's okay, Cas." 

"But Dean, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable.  You are a guest here, and-" 

"Dude, I said it's okay." He forced a small smile which he hoped was reassuring.  "It was a surprise, but we're cool.  I promise.  Just uh... maybe we should have a no touching rule."

Castiel nodded jerkily and stepped back further.  He looked around the living room, his eyes still wide.  "Alright." 

Dean relaxed.  He still had questions, but after what had just happened he needed a little space.  "Uh... it's been a long day.  I think I'm going to try to get some shut eye.”  The sun was starting to go down over the mountains, but it was still too early to go to sleep.  He was going to pretend though, if that would give him a little space from the other man. 

“Oh.  Yes.”  Castiel nodded again and began backing out of the room.  “Just uh… if you need anything…” 

Dean had no intention of asking for any help, any time soon.  But he pressed his lips together in something resembling a smile.  “I’ll holler.” 

Castiel bobbed his head one more time, and left the room.  Dean fell back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling.  He had no idea what the hell had just happened.  It had been almost too fast to process.  His heart was still pounding from the experience.   

But it hadn’t been bad.  It had felt pretty damn good, actually.  Intense, but in that _had too many drinks, but is about to get laid, and can’t wait to get naked_ way.   

That felt a little weird.  Dean had found men attractive, but he’d never wanted to do anything about it.  It was easier finding a pretty girl to keep him company, and he’d never really been in a situation where men had flirted with him.  He wouldn’t have minded if they did, even if he had no plans on ever flirting back if it happened.  But something about Castiel was just… sexy.  And as he stared up that the ceiling, seeing Castiel’s eyes, and mouth, and hands, and- 

Shit, he wasn’t _gay._  

But he was beginning to think he might be a little bit bi.  Or at least bi-curious where Castiel was concerned. 

Deciding he didn’t want to think about it anymore, Dean sat up with a grunt, then stood.  He grabbed his bag and pulled out some pajama bottoms.  It had been a hot day, and the Impala didn’t have air conditioning.  He probably stank.  Lifting his arm and sniffing confirmed it and he wrinkled his nose.  A shower was definitely in order. 

He grabbed his toothbrush and a pair of clean underwear and made his way back upstairs.  “Cas?” he called down the hallway.  He had no idea where the other man had gone, but he felt he ought to at least warn him he was going to hog the bathroom for a bit. 

“In here.” 

Dean followed Castiel’s voice down the hall to the craft room. Castiel was sitting at the bench with the wood carving tools and was examining a small wooden bird under a large table mounted magnifying glass.  He looked up at Dean, and even though his expression was neutral, his cheeks pinkened slightly.  “Yes, Dean?” 

“I’m gonna take a shower.  You need the bathroom first?” 

Castiel looked back down at the bird in his hand.  “No, thank you.  There are fresh towels in the closet next to the bathroom.” 

“Thanks, man.” Dean was torn over the indifference Castiel was showing him.  He berated himself for it as he turned away. 

First he was the one telling Castiel not to touch.  And now, he was disappointed that Castiel hadn’t reacted to the fact that he was about to get naked just a few doors down the hall.  He’d never run so hot and cold in his life. 

Thoughts about his reaction to Castiel wouldn't leave him alone while he stripped down and stepped into the shower.  Not even the cool spray of water could wash them away when he ducked his head under the showerhead.  He stood there and let it pound on the back of his neck while he thought.   

He liked women.  Always had, always will.  But every once in a while he'd seen a guy that made him a little curious about what things would be like.  Castiel made him more than curious.  He made Dean consider.  Which was completely stupid, since the guy was a _witch_.  Even if he claimed to shun the dark side of the force.  How could Dean believe that when he'd seen no evidence that there was such a thing as a good witch? 

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out, tilting his head back under the spray so water poured down over his face.  He grabbed his soap and began washing.  As his hands slipped lower over his abdomen he stopped trying to rein in his thoughts.  He let himself feel the arousal that had been on a slow burn since he'd first laid eyes on Castiel.  And in the privacy of his own mind, allowed himself to think about what it would be like to experiment. 

His imagination provided images and sounds.  Castiel had a rough voice, and Dean could nearly hear him whispering dirty things, grunting as they moved against each other, calling his name.  He imagined pressing their bodies close, and the mental image of their dicks rubbing together had him hard and wanting.  He let his hand slip down and stroke through the hair around his groin with soapy fingers.  He cupped his balls, rolling them in his fingers, wondering if it would feel different if it were Castiel touching him.   

That was the thought that finally made him shift his hand and start stroking himself.  He dropped his head between his shoulders and watched, trying to ignore the ghost image of someone else's hand and focusing on his own. 

He slammed the back of his other wrist against his mouth to muffle himself when he came.  He dropped his head down to lean his chin on his chest.  "Well, fuck," he muttered.  He was so screwed.

 

\-----

 

Castiel nearly dropped the tiny hummingbird he had been working on when he felt the waves of heat coming from Dean's direction.  Quickly he built up his mental barriers, making them thicker than he'd ever had to since the power had manifested itself.  But it was too late.  He'd already caught a glimpse of Dean's imaginings, and his own body responded in kind.   

Carefully, he set the hummingbird down so he wouldn't crush it.  He took a deep breath, and then another, trying to calm his body.  This was a complication he had not anticipated when he had made the deal with Dean.  Of course he found the other man attractive.  He was beautiful, with his green eyes flecked with gold, and chiseled features kissed with freckles.  But the link forming between them made it difficult for him to ignore how beautiful Dean was on the inside.  And while he could ignore his physical urges easily, he couldn't ignore the tug of Dean's soul. 

He had no idea how long he sat there, staring at the workbench in front of him, but the light had faded from the windows and it was full dark by the time he felt like he had control of himself.  He listened carefully but could no longer hear any sound from the bathroom, so he hoped Dean was finished.  He wasn't going to be able to get any more work done tonight, and retreating to his bedroom seemed the best course of action.   

His mind latched on the idea of finding comfort in his room, so he pushed himself to his feet and hurried out of the craft room.  Unfortunately, he hadn't waited long enough because at the same time he entered the hall, Dean opened the bathroom door.   

Castiel froze, except for his eyes which wandered over Dean's body.  He was fully clothed in a soft and tattered AC/DC t-shirt and a pair of loose grey pajama bottoms, but it was less layers than Dean had been wearing before and Castiel took in the sight hungrily.  The sound of a throat clearing made him look up and he met Dean's eyes.   

Dean reached up and ran his fingers through his damp hair, causing it to spike up.  "Sorry," he mumbled.  "I'll get out of your way." 

He made a move toward the stairs but Castiel stopped him.  "Dean." 

Dean only turned his head so he could look over his shoulder, but at least he was meeting Castiel's eyes.  "Yeah, Cas?" 

Why had he stopped him?  He wracked his brain for something to say.  He finally settled on the truth.  "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable here, Dean.  This is your home until Solstice." 

Dean's lips curved upward slightly and the tense line of his shoulders relaxed slightly.  "Thanks, Cas.  See you in the morning." 

He walked down the stairs, and Castiel's eyes followed him until he disappeared.  Then he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.  He cursed in his native tongue.  He was so screwed.

 

\----

 

Castiel slept much better than he thought he would that night.  He had been worried that thoughts of Dean would keep him awake, but instead they lulled him into a deep and restful sleep.  He suspected it was the link between them.  It was strong, and he found comfort in it.  When he woke, he felt more rested than he had in many months.  The spells he maintained around his home and the wards he kept around the neighborhood still siphoned from the well of power within him, but he no longer felt it as strongly.  

Dean was still asleep in the living room when Castiel padded downstairs.  He wanted to stop and watch the sleeping man, but feared his reaction if he woke.  So instead he decided to make breakfast.   

Normally Castiel had a bowl of cereal - Cinnamon Toast Crunch with almond milk was his guilty pleasure - but he'd noticed that Dean had a rather large appetite, so he decided to make pancakes instead.  It would be his peace offering for the awkwardness of the night before.   

He had made a decent sized stack pancakes by the time Dean wandered into the kitchen, yawning and running his fingers through messy hair.  His head tilted back as if he were scenting the air, and he smiled.  "You made pancakes?" 

Castiel allowed himself a small smile and nodded toward the plate on the counter.  "Help yourself.  Butter and syrup are in the cupboard next to the fridge." 

Dean narrowed his eyes in an almost playful expression.  "I'm taking all of these."  He grabbed the plate which held five large pancakes and strolled to the cupboard Castiel had indicated.   

Surprised by the other man's good humor, Castiel laughed.  "If that's not enough, I can make more."  He flipped the two pancakes on the griddle onto another plate for himself.  He turned off the stove and went to join Dean at the table.   

Dean had already gotten him a fork, and nudged the butter and syrup closer when he sat down.  "Dude, is this real maple syrup?"  He seemed much more relaxed than he had been the day before.  The tension that had been present in his body seemed to be gone, and he was smiling. 

"Of course."  Castiel spread a liberal amount of butter and syrup over his own breakfast. 

"I'm going to be so spoiled by the time I leave here." 

Castiel glanced up at the reminder, but quickly dropped his eyes to his breakfast.  Dean would leave as soon as his curse was broken, if not sooner.  And Castiel would allow him to.  But if pancakes with real maple syrup every morning would convince him to stay, then Castiel would do his best to provide.  But first he needed to address what had happened between them.  "Dean, about yesterday-" 

"Dude, you don't have to apologize." Dean didn't look up from his pancakes when he spoke.  Castiel could feel just the slightest hint of discomfort through the link, but it seemed more embarrassed than upset.  "I know you didn't do that on purpose." 

"No," Castiel said quietly.  It was good to know that Dean trusted him at least that much.  "I did not.  And it won't happen again." 

Dean set his fork down and wiped his mouth on a napkin.  He looked up and gave Castiel a deliberate stare.  "Look, I've always been into women..." 

Castiel frowned, confused about the direction Dean was taking the conversation.  He had expected Dean to just accept his promise and drop the subject. 

Dean looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.  It seemed to be a nervous habit.  "I mean... I'm not here for... that." He waved his hand at Castiel.  "But what happened..." 

He was starting to look so uncomfortable that Castiel decided it was time to change the subject.  "Dean.  I promise.  It won't happen again.  I've built up the barriers between us, and even if we touch accidentally, you shouldn't get anything like that from me again.  And the block goes both ways." 

Dean frowned in frustration.  He opened his mouth and closed it again a few times before he seemed to deflate.  He picked up his fork and stabbed at his breakfast.  He smiled, although it was a little stiff and didn't quite reach his eyes and there was the bareest hint of disappointment tinging the link between them.  "Thanks, Cas." 

Somewhere he'd taken a wrong turn in the conversation and Dean was no longer as relaxed as he had been when he first walked in the room.  Castiel ducked his head to hide his own frown.  He was trying to make friends with the Hunter, not drive him away.  And apparently he was doing a shit job of it.  

Talking to people had never been one of his strong points.  Gabriel was always teasing him about his people skills being rusty, but it had never bothered him.  He had a few close friends, and he didn't really need more than that. 

But he wanted Dean.  Having a Familiar would give him more power.  There was so much more he could do for people with that boost.  He just had to figure out how to fix whatever he had messed up. 

Dean interrupted his thoughts.  "So what exactly are we going to do all day?  Are we going to just sit around and cast spells, or what?" 

"I have to leave for work soon." 

Dean paused with his fork in his mouth, eyes wide with surprise.  He finally put it down on his plate, chewed and swallowed.  "You... work?  You mean you do something other than-" he waved his free hand with a flourish  "witchy stuff?" 

Castiel couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up at Dean's earnest confusion.  "I do have bills to pay, Dean." 

"And you pay them?" 

Dean's honest surprise that Castiel could act as a functioning member of society grated on his nerves slightly.  "Of course I do."  He waved his fork around to bring Dean's attention to the house.  "I don't just conjure things like this out of thin air." 

Dean opened his mouth, but then closed it.  He must have changed his mind about what he wanted to say, because suddenly his eyes glittered with interest.  "Could you? If you wanted to?" 

"No, my magic doesn't work that way." His brother Gabriel could manipulate reality and turn a cardboard box into a Victorian mansion, but Castiel's powers leaned more towards life and nature.  "At most, I could force some trees to grow into a house and furniture.  But it wouldn't quite blend in with the neighborhood aesthetic." 

“Huh.” Dean picked up his fork again.  He stuffed another large bite of pancake into his mouth.  His cheeks bulged slightly as he chewed.  His mouth was still full when he spoke.  “So what am I supposed to do all day while you work?” 

“You could come with me.” 

“Your boss gonna be okay with that?” 

Castiel smiled.  Despite his poor table manners, it was a joy to watch Dean eat.  He seemed to get a simple joy out of the food that made Castiel want to feed him more.  “I am the boss, Dean.” 

Dean blinked, and swallowed.  He looked thoughtfully down at his plate, running the tines of his fork through some melted butter.  “Sure, I guess I can go.  I don’t have anything better to do.”  He looked up and pointed his fork at Castiel, his expression serious.  “But I’m driving.” 

Castiel nodded.  That was an acceptable compromise if it meant he could have Dean near him for the rest of the day.  “I believe that is an acceptable arrangement.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes at Castiel's formality before digging back into his breakfast.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still irritated with myself for deciding to name my chapters. *sigh*
> 
> Oh, and if you've read any of my other works SHOOSH, I JUST REALLY LIKE MEN MASTURBATING IN THE SHOWER, OK :P


	6. Little Shop of... Well, Not Horror.

Dean pulled the Impala into a parking spot in front of the modern looking strip mall and looked up at the sign above the store that Castiel had indicated.  He rolled his eyes at the name.   _Blessings._  That was just too corny to comment on.  "Really, Cas?  You work at a magic shop?" 

Next to him, Castiel huffed with annoyance.  "It is not a magic shop, Dean.  It is a holistic health remedy shop." 

The store looked just as plain as the shops around it, but Dean could see the shelves in the windows displaying crystal balls and a sign that said "Tarot Readings available."  He turned a dry look on his passenger.  "Cas, all I’m hearing you say is ‘New Age Mumbo Jumbo’ and the only difference between a new age shop and a magic shop is exactly nothing." 

Castiel gave him a glare that was less threatening and more rumpled grumpy cat.  Especially since his hair currently looked like it hadn't seen a comb in at least a decade.  "It is not 'New Age'." The words were punctuated with actual air quotes. "Many of these remedies have been around for longer than my life span." 

Dean held up his palms in a calming gesture.  "Alright, I get that." He waved one hand at the sign in the window.  "But Tarot readings?  That shit doesn't even work.  Why bother?" 

"Tarot does work for someone with the right training, and an innate ability for fortune telling." Castiel reached for the door handle and got out.  

Dean followed him after making sure the car was locked up and the windows were cracked.  It was already starting to get hot, and it wasn't even nine yet.  "Let me guess.  You have both?" he asked as he followed Castiel to the shop's door. 

Castiel dug his keys out of his pocket.  He shook his head as he unlocked the door and pushed inside.  "I have the training, but no powers to read the future.  I simply use them as a front for the powers I do have.  People are more likely to believe me when I tell them they are ill if I put on a show for them."   

He walked over to the wall and flipped a switch, lighting up the interior.  It was not a large space, but the way it was laid out made it feel open.  There were shelves along the walls, full of books, jars, bottles, crystals, incenses, and other things which Dean recognized from the shop his brother used to drag him to for magic supplies.  Near the back there was a glass counter displaying more fragile objects with a cash register and a computer set on top of it.  Behind that were more shelves, but they had doors that appeared to be locked.  Tucked in the back corner was a door that Dean intended to explore later.  

Running his hands over a shelf holding books that ranged in subjects from natural dietary supplements to crystal dictionaries, Dean shook his head.  Castiel could deny that the place was a magic shop, but Dean wasn't going to be able to think of it as anything else.  And he wasn't going to argue the point at the moment.  Not when he was more curious about what Castiel had just revealed.  "You've mentioned that before," he said as he turned to watch Castiel walk around the counter to boot up the computer.  "I didn't know that witches had different kinds of powers." 

Castiel only glanced up at him briefly before tapping away at the computer again.  "How many witches have you had conversations with about their powers?" 

"You got me there," Dean shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.  "I usually did my best to avoid conversation.  No need to give them a chance to kill me first."  A sick feeling settled in his stomach.  Had he ever killed a white witch?  It was not likely since they should have been able to use their power against him despite his amulet.  But he'd taken more than one witch by surprise and killed them before they'd even have a chance to react. 

He hoped that wasn't the case.  He had been hunting for a long time, and the idea that he may have made a mistake that monumental was horrifying.  He swallowed the acid that rose up in his throat and resolved not to think about it.  There was nothing he could do about it now, but he would be more careful in the future.   

That was when he realized that he'd already made the decision that Castiel was different.  Dean wasn't sure exactly how he knew he could trust Castiel, but he suspected it was the link forming between them.   

Shrugging off the uncomfortable thoughts, he sauntered over to the counter and leaned across it to look at the computer screen.  But he wasn't really paying attention to it because he had more questions.  "So tell me about your powers." 

Castiel stopped typing and leaned against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest.  He was wearing a long sleeved black button up shirt, and the cloth stretched over his lean arms, drawing Dean's attention to them.  "I am an empath.  That was a power I developed before I started practicing magic, although it was weak when I was a child.  It has developed into the ability to sense illness and heal it.  If I take down my barriers completely I can sometimes read minds, but it is sporadic and works better with people who have powers of their own." 

"Is that why...?" Dean couldn't quite bring himself to talk about what happened the night before. 

Thankfully, Castiel understood.  "Yes, although as a Familiar you could share a similar experience with any witch if you chose to bind yourself to them." 

A shudder ran through Dean at the thought of bonding to any of the sick fucks he'd hunted down over the years. The last witch he had killed had sacrificed her own children in a grisly ceremony that was supposed to give her eternal beauty.  Dean's research told him that she would marry an unsuspecting man, get pregnant with twins, and then sacrifice them on their fifth birthdays.  She would then murder her husband and relocate to a new city and find herself a new victim.  The one before that had been a man who cast spells on his enemies turning them into mind controlled slaves.  On the outside, they looked like they functioned normally, but they would rob, steal, and murder at his whim.  "No thanks," he grunted.  "Not gonna be doing that anytime soon." 

There was a flash of something odd in Castiel's eyes, but his expression smoothed out quickly.  "Other than the powers I was born with, I have also learned many things.  Weather control, telekinesis, and all sorts of wardings.  With a spell book, I could do just about any magic.  Light or dark." 

Dean thought about Bobby's collection of spell books and he wondered what kind they were.  There were so many that he kept locked up, like the one Sam had used to curse him when they were kids.  Did having them make Bobby a witch?  What about Sam?  He had been studying magic for years in an attempt to break the curse.  But as far as Dean knew, neither of them had any powers.  Even Dean could cast a spell, and he'd done so many times in the past if it was necessary.   

"You're thinking very hard," Castiel pointed out.  "I can practically feel it, and I've got my wards up." 

It was frustrating that Dean's neatly ordered world perceptions had been so rattled by the man standing before him.  He sighed, straightened to a standing position, and ran a hand through his hair.  He hadn't put any gel in it that morning, and the soft strands fell down over his forehead.  "I dunno, man.  I just have so many questions, and I don't know where to start." 

"You may ask me anything, Dean." 

Dean huffed out a breath, and smiled slightly at the other man.  "Thanks, Cas." 

Castiel beamed at him.  They got caught like that, green eyes latched on blue, and Dean started feeling some of the heat that had been haunting him since the day before.  His eyes dropped to Castiel's mouth before bouncing back up to his eyes.  Despite the counter between them, it would take very little to bend forward and kiss Castiel.   

He wanted to.  And he was done pretending he didn't.  Who the fuck cared if Castiel was a man?  Dean was a fucking adult, and he could make his own choices about who to be attracted to. 

His muscles had tensed to make that final move forward when the bell over the door jingled.  Startled, Dean spun around, reaching for a weapon he currently wasn't carrying.  

A young woman with bright red hair in a pixie cut, wearing a Batman t-shirt stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth a round O of surprise.  "Hey Castiel, am I late?" She eyed Dean warily as if she wasn't sure if he was a customer or a robber. 

"Good morning, Charlie," Castiel said warmly.  "You are right on time as usual.  Would you flip the sign to open?" 

Charlie eyed Dean for another moment before she nodded and moved the rest of the way through the door.  She reached between the shelves against the window and flipped a switch on a small neon open sign, turning it on.  Then she turned back and approached the counter.  She seemed to take Castiel's relaxed state in stride, and she smiled at Dean.  "Hi." 

"Charlie, this is Dean," Castiel said, reaching toward his shoulder but not quite touching him.  He was being careful of the boundaries Dean had set.  "He'll be helping around the shop for a while.  Dean, this is Charlie.  She works for me." 

Dean gave her a lazy, flirtatious grin and held his hand out.  "Nice to meet you, Charlie." 

Her eyes widened, and then she laughed.  She took his hand and pumped it twice, firmly.  "Turn down the sizzle, dude.  I only like the ladies." 

Flirtation was his default mode when he was around women, but he hadn't intended to give the impression that he was hitting on her.  He threw his head back and laughed.  When he settled down, she was grinning at him, obviously in on the joke.  "Well damn, I'm not sure how I'm going to compete with you," he told her with a grin. 

She smiled coyly.  "You can't.  Better get used to failure." 

Dean laughed again.  "I'm sure I'll survive."   

Charlie returned his grin.  "So you're working for Castiel too?  You know how to use a computer, right?  It took me forever to teach him how, and he doesn't pay me enough to give lessons." 

Behind the counter, Castiel snorted.  "I doubt even the government could afford your skills, Charlie." 

She glowed under the praise.  "Ok, that's probably true." 

Dean glanced back at Castiel.  He was looking at the computer screen, but he was smiling fondly.  The expression made him look younger, and Dean felt something curl low in his belly.  He jerked his eyes away and faced Charlie again.  "You some kind of computer whiz or something?" 

One of her shoulders went up in an irreverent shrug.  "I know my way around them." 

Castiel snorted again and Charlie shot him a glare.  Dean raised an eyebrow at her, but she only flashed him an overly innocent smile before going around the counter and flapping her hands at Castiel until he grudgingly stepped away from the computer.  She dropped her bag and settled down on the stool Castiel had vacated, making herself at home.  "I got this, boss.  Go do your thing." 

Instead of getting irritated with her, Castiel just shook his head at her and headed for the door into the back room.  "Dean, I'm going to be doing inventory.  Charlie can you show Dean what needs to be done?”

 

\----

 

The following week was odd for Dean, to say the least.  He and Castiel had quiet conversations in the evenings, sometimes sipping lemonade while settled in chairs in the back yard, sometimes over a chessboard at the table that Castiel had dug out of a closet.  They avoided any heavy topics, as Dean was still trying to absorb what little he’d learned already.  But they talked a little about magic and how Dean suspected Sammy might have some innate abilities.  Castiel would talk about things he’d witnessed over the last thousand years, clearing up things that the history books got wrong. 

Then in the mornings they would have breakfast, and go to the shop.  Castiel left Dean to his own devices for the most part, allowing him time to spend with Charlie.  The two of them bonded over their love of Batman, teasing Castiel about his fear of electronics - _I’m not afraid of them, I just prefer to get along without them -_ and real time strategy games.

Dean hadn’t exactly agreed to helping out around the shop, but now he was stuck playing along or looking like a dick.  So while Castiel worked in the back room or gave tarot readings to guests, Dean let Charlie show him how to work the register, how to process orders from the website, and how to properly spin on the stool behind the counter to get the best kind of dizzy.  

At the moment, he and Charlie were alone in the shop because Castiel had gone to pick up lunch for the three of them.  Charlie was laughing and leaning against the counter because she hadn’t gotten her own equilibrium back after a particularly well done spin on the stool when a customer came in.  The old woman gave them both a wary look, but approached the counter anyway.  “Excuse me.  I am looking for a way to keep bugs out of my house without poisoning my dogs.  Can you help me?” 

Dean gave her a lazy grin.  “Sure, but you’re gonna need seven black candles, the blood of a newborn lamb, and a working knowledge of latin.” 

Charlie hissed at him, and elbowed him in the ribs before turning to the woman with a smile.  “Lemongrass and Lavender oil will do the trick.  Here, let me show you where to find them.”  She ushered the woman toward a shelf near the door that held small brown bottles, tossing a glare over her shoulder at Dean.  He made a face at her, crossing his eyes, and grinning when she flipped him off. 

When the woman had made her purchase and left, Charlie slapped him in the shoulder.  “You’re an ass.” She grinned.  “I like that about you.  We should be friends.” 

Dean chuckled.  “I think that sounds like a good idea.” And it did.  Charlie was a good kid, and he really liked her.  “Tell me something, Charlie.  How come you work here?  You seem like you could be doing better for yourself.” 

Charlie looked around the empty store.  “What?  And miss out on all this excitement?” 

Dean looked around as well.  He wondered if Charlie knew what Castiel was.  She might consider that exciting enough.  

She didn’t seem to notice where his attention was gone.  She’d pulled up Facebook on the computer and had clicked through to a picture of herself with an older woman.  “This is my mom,” she said softly.  “She should be dead right now.  Or in a coma, at the very least.  She was in a coma for a few years actually.”  She looked up at Dean and her eyes, a different shade of green than his own, shone with unshed tears.  Her voice trembled a little when she spoke.  “There was a car accident… my dad didn’t make it but my mom…” She swallowed and cleared her throat.  She smiled at the picture on the screen for a moment before turning to look at Dean.  “Castiel healed her.” 

Dean’s eyebrows went up and his mouth went slack with surprise.  “He healed her?” 

“Look, I know it’s crazy.” She boosted herself up to sit on the counter next to the register.  “But it’s true!  I swear!  And I’m here because I feel like I owe him.” 

“Wait, what?  Charlie, if he’s making you work here-” 

She cut off his angry rant with a shake of her head and a laugh.  “He’s not making me do anything, Dean.  I kept showing up until one day he started paying me.  I’m pretty sure he regrets it now, cuz he’s stuck with me.”  Her smile dimmed a little and she looked toward the back room.  “I think he’s lonely and I just try to keep him company.” 

Dean dropped his eyes to the top of the counter, scraping at a non existent speck on the surface with his thumbnail.  He’d gotten the impression that Castiel was lonely too.  But he always gave Dean space, despite the fact that Dean was living as a guest in his home.  They spent time together, but Castiel always looked as if he were afraid Dean would tell him to back off at any moment.  

Maybe he would have at first, but he was starting to really enjoy Castiel’s company. 

“He seems better now that you’re around.” Charlie said softly.  “I think you’re good for him.  And you make a really cute couple.” 

Dean’s head snapped up.  “We’re not a couple.” 

“Oh.” Charlie frowned, confused.  “But… aren’t you living with him?” 

They hadn’t exactly kept it a secret that Dean was staying with Castiel, but he hadn’t realized the impression that it would give her.  “It’s not like that.”   _Not yet_ , a voice whispered in the back of his mind.  He resolutely ignored it.  His attraction to Castiel certainly hadn't faded, and he was up for a little experimentation, but he hadn't actually built up the courage to do anything about it yet. 

“Sure, sure.  Yeah, I get it.” Her tone said she didn’t believe him at all. 

Dean rolled his eyes.  “Look, he’s helping me with something.”  He hadn’t intended to let Charlie in on his secret, but she’d told him about her mom.  And he needed to clear up the whole living together thing.  “I’m cursed, and he’s going to help me break it.” 

Her eyes widened.  “I thought your reaction to the news that he healed my mom was a little mild.  Most people would have either freaked out or just wouldn't believe me.  So you know what he is then?” 

Now that she’d just confirmed that she also knew Castiel was a witch, Dean felt much better about sharing his own secret with her.  “Yeah.  I know.”  He wasn’t going to tell her that he knew because he’d intended to kill Castiel.  No need to go that far.  

She waited for him to go on, but when he didn’t she prompted.  “So, you’re cursed?  What is it?” Her eyes widened with excitement.  "Do you turn into a frog under the full moon?  Is it a monster curse?  You're going to turn into something horrible if you don't experience true love's kiss?" 

She was joking, but she came uncomfortably close to the truth.  He hadn’t ever revealed himself to anyone besides family and Castiel before, and it felt a little weird to even consider telling her what he was.  So instead of trying to find the right words, he decided to just show her.  “Yeah, uh…” he reached up and lifted the pendant from around his neck.  “Hold this for me?” 

She gave him a dubious look, but held out her hand.  He set the pendant in her palm and slowly let go.  When the string slipped completely out of his grasp he felt the magic wash through him and he began to shift.  Everything spun around him, and between one blink and the next, he was looking up, way up at her.   

A flap of his strong wings pulled him up into the air, and he cackled when she squeaked and backed away from him.  He settled onto the counter, his claws clicking against the glass.  He stretched one wing out to the side, eyeing the oily black feathers.  He’d sensed the shift into a bird form and had concentrated on becoming a raven.  It was the bird form he preferred because if he was careful, he could speak.  He clacked his beak together and turned his head so he could stare at her with one eye. 

“Holy shit,” Charlie breathed.   

“Cursed,” he cawed. 

“Yeah, I get that.  Damn, no wonder you weren’t surprised about my mom.”  She reached out a hand and then hesitated.  “Is it ok if I..?” 

He hopped forward to signal his permission.  The tips of her fingers touched his head, brushing lightly against the sleek feathers.  He would never admit it out loud, but he liked how it felt.  Almost as much as the time Castiel had pet him when they’d first met.  Very few people knew about his ability to shift, and all of them were careful not to touch him when he was not human.  

Charlie suddenly laughed.  “Dude, this is actually pretty cool.” 

“Curse,” he reminded her. 

“Yeah, but Dean you’re a _bird_.  You could fly around and dive bomb people that take up two parking spaces.  That’s pretty awesome!” 

He cocked his head to one side, amused at the suggestion, seriously considering it for a moment. 

The bell rang over the door and they both turned to see Castiel pushing through it backwards, carrying two large plastic bags that smelled sharply of curry sauce.  “Sorry that took so long.  Looks like everyone was in the mood for curry today-” He cut off when he noticed them.  His eyes widened, bounced between them before settling on Dean. 

In this form, Dean’s sight was magnified and he could see the tiniest shifts in Castiel’s expression.  He could also feel the sudden anxiety flooding the link between them.   _Whoa, Cas.  It’s ok.  I was just showing her -_ he flapped his wings slightly and Charlie jerked away - _y’know… this._  

Castiel gave him a tiny nod before turning to Charlie.  “It’s very important that you don’t tell anyone about this, do you understand?” 

 _Dude, she’s fine._  Dean snapped his beak irritably.  He’d decided to show Charlie because he trusted her. 

Castiel sighed and grimaced.  He closed the space between them, setting the bags on the counter.  “You’re right, Dean.” He turned to Charlie.  “I’m sorry.  I know we can trust you with this.  I just-” he glanced down at Dean briefly, something unreadable in his eyes.  “It’s dangerous for him if this gets out.” 

She swiped her fingers across her mouth, and mimed locking them and throwing away the key.  Then she grinned.  “Wait, can you two talk to each other?” 

“Yes,” Dean cawed.  “Necklace.” 

“What?” She gave him a blank look. 

“He needs his necklace to shift back,” Castiel explained. 

“Oh!  Right, sorry.”  She quickly looped the necklace over his head.  

Back in his human body, Dean ran both hands through his hair, then back down over his face.  “Ugh,” he grumbled.  “I can still feel my beak.” 

Charlie’s eyes lit up with curiosity.  “Really?  Does that always happen?” 

Dean shifted nervously, looking back and forth between them.  He’d never talked about what it was like to shift.  Sam used to ask him about it years ago when the curse had started, but Dean had been too upset to talk about it at the time.  Eventually the questions had stopped.  “Yeah… usually something will stick around for a few hours afterwards.  Like one of my senses will be different, or I’ll feel phantom body parts.  Like a beak.” He flexed his arms and hands, watching his fingers stretch and curl.  “Or wings.” 

“Wow, turning into a bird must be weird.”   

Castiel remained quiet, but he started unpacking the bags and passing styrofoam boxes to each of them.  His fingers brushed against Dean’s when he handed him his lunch, and across the link, Dean could feel his intense curiosity.  Dude had one hell of a poker face though.  He almost looked bored with the conversation. 

“It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever been,” Dean said as he popped open his box.  He inhaled the scent of spicy red curry and his mouth watered.  Castiel had gotten him lamb, which was his favorite.  “I’ve been a monkey a few times.  It feels almost like my own body, but not quite right.” 

Charlie was clearly fascinated.  As they ate, she kept asking him questions.  Could he control it?  Not really.  Why did he turn into something different every time?  Because it’s a curse.  Have you ever been a fish?  No, only animals that could survive on land or birds.  Do you have a preference for what kind of animal you are?  Haven't really thought about it. 

And then the most difficult question to answer.  But it wasn’t Charlie that asked it.  Castiel’s quiet voice broke into their conversation.  “Do you ever enjoy it?” 

Dean froze with a bite of rice halfway to his mouth.   Slowly he set his fork down and pushed the container away.  Charlie frowned, concerned, her eyes darting between the two men.  Dean gave her a weak smile in an attempt to reassure her before turning his attention back to Castiel. 

The other man was resolutely staring down at his lunch, pushing chunks of potato into the rice and chicken, and then stirring it.  His shoulders were tense, and Dean could feel a confusing mix of apprehension, guilt, and hope coming from him.  It made him want to reach out and touch him.  To reassure him.  But he didn’t because he didn’t know how to react to the question or the feelings that arose in him. 

He wanted to be _human._  And for a little over ten years that is all he’d thought about. 

It shocked him to realize he’d never stopped to think about how he felt when about being an animal sometimes.  Sure, he’d found it useful.  And some forms were better than others.  But he'd always been eager to shift back.  

“I don’t know,” he finally answered, truthfully. 

There was a sharp stab of disappointment from Castiel, and Dean jerked slightly in response.  Since that first day when he’d gotten an overload of lust through the link, Castiel had kept up some serious blocks and only very strong emotions came through now.  What had Dean said that had affected him so strongly that it came through the link like that? 

“I think it would be cool,” Charlie said, breaking the tense silence.  “But I’d want to be a cat.” 

Dean played along, eager to talk about something less serious.  He picked up his fork again and gave her a curious look.  “Why a cat?” 

She gave him a disappointed look.  “Come on.  There are sooo many lesbian jokes I just left myself open for there.” 

And just like that the tension was gone.  Dean and Charlie laughed together, while Castiel smiled at them in bemusement.  The subject of Dean’s curse was dropped and shortly after they finished their lunch business picked up, keeping them all busy.  But Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the question. 

It wasn’t until that evening when Dean and Castiel were sitting on the back porch sipping lemonade that Dean finally broached the topic again.  He took a deep swallow from his glass, wishing it were spiked with whiskey.  Castiel was tracing shapes in the air in the direction of the raspberry bush growing against the back fence.  Even though Dean couldn’t see as well now as he could earlier in the day while he was still experiencing the carry over from being a raven, he could see that the branches seemed to perk up. 

Castiel had so much power already, and he used it casually.  It was just an extension of himself.  Dean kind of envied that. 

“I do like it sometimes.” 

Castiel startled, and turned to face Dean.  

It took an effort to hold his gaze, but Dean did it.  Because even though it had been just under a week since he had met Castiel, he felt that the man deserved an answer to the question.  And he felt more comfortable telling him this than anyone else, even Sammy.  “I wish I had more control over it.  And I wish that there wasn’t the risk of getting stuck if I lost my pendant.” Out of habit he reached up and wrapped his fingers around it, taking comfort from the horns stabbing into his palm.  “But sometimes it’s… fun.” 

Castiel’s eyes glowed slightly in the golden light of the setting sun, and Dean wasn’t sure if it was just a trick of the light or if it was that eerie magic glow they sometimes held.  “If you could control it, would you want to stay a Familiar?” 

Dean shrugged.  “I dunno, Cas.  Maybe.”  It was the most he could admit to. 

They both fell silent again.  But it wasn’t the easy quiet they normally shared.  There was something moving under Dean’s ribs, itching under his skin.  He wanted to stop thinking about the curse.  He needed a distraction, quickly. 

He looked over at Castiel again, and he got an idea.  “Hey Cas, wanna watch a movie?” 

Castiel turned and frowned at him, did the little head tilt that Dean was coming to really enjoy.  “I don’t own a TV, Dean.”

Dean grunted as he got up from the chair.  “First of all, you really need to remedy that if I’m going to be staying with you for a while.”  He held out a hand to Castiel.  “Second, I’ve got a laptop and Netflix.” 

Castiel glanced down at his hand then back up at him.  The No Touching Rule was hanging silently between them.  Castiel looked uncertain, but when Dean didn't pull away he reached out slowly and took Dean’s hand, allowing him to haul him out of the chair.  Neither of them let go right away.  There was something pulsing between their palms, but it was shifting and changing, and Dean couldn't quite interpret what he was feeling.  It was muffled, probably because of Castiel's barriers, but whatever it was, it was not unpleasant.  Dean’s fingers felt empty when Castiel’s finally slid away.  “Come on, Cas,” he jerked his head toward the house, then turned and led him inside.   

It took a few minutes to get set up.  Dean pulled out the hide-a-bed and piled some cushions up to make it comfortable for both of them.  Then they settled down next to each other, thighs pressed tightly together.  It was a little more intimate than what Dean had in mind originally, but he actually liked it so he didn't move away.  That odd pulsing _something_ still flowed between them, but without skin contact it was barely noticeable.  Castiel leaned close so that he could see the screen of the laptop sitting on Dean’s thighs.   

Dean queued up The Princess Bride.  It was a great movie, with lots of action and laughs, but it was kind of a chick flick and Dean knew it.  He’d probably be better off starting Castiel out with something like Star Wars or Indiana Jones or maybe something completely campy like Army of Darkness.  But as Grandpa Columbo started reading the story to his sick grandkid, Castiel tilted his head down on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean knew he’d chosen the right movie. 

Man, he was so, so, screwed.  


	7. Admitting it is the first step

It was ten minutes to noon when the phone finally rang.  Jo was in the middle of taking an order from a couple of grungy looking hunters, but as soon as she heard it she vaulted across the room, dodging tables and calling apologies over her shoulder.  She grabbed the phone just before her mother could, ignoring Ellen's ruffled glare, and turning away from the room.  "Dean?" 

"What if I'd been a customer, Jo?  What then, huh?" 

Tension that had been plaguing her for a week eased out of her shoulders, and she let out a derisive snort.  "Whatever, Dean.  No one ever calls here and you know it." 

There was a warm chuckle across the line.  "Maybe if you start giving out your number when the guys ask for it, that would change." 

She snorted again.  "Please.  Can you honestly see me with any of the guys that come around here?" 

"Ugh, good point.  Hold out for the right guy, Jo." 

For a long time she had thought Dean was the right guy, and they both knew it.  But that was a ship that had sailed a long time ago.  Dean had never been able to see her as anything more than family.  It sucked at first, but now that she was older and knew what a player Dean was, she could at least appreciate the fact that he respected her too much to string her along.  "Kinda hard to meet one out here in the middle of nowhere," she grumbled.  

There was a gruff cough on the other end of the line, and Jo realized she'd let the subject veer too far in a direction neither of them wanted to take it.  But that was easy enough to remedy.  "So the witch hasn't killed you yet, I see." 

Dean laughed weakly.  "Uh, no.  He wouldn't do that." 

If Jo didn't know Dean so well, she would think he sounded... shy?  "You're not swallowing that 'good witch' crap, are you Dean-o?"  When he didn't answer right away, her eyes widened.  "Dean?  The guy is a witch.  Y'know... baby sacrifices and hex bags?" 

"Jo, Cas doesn't use that kind of magic.  He-" 

"Oh my god!" She looked around the bar and smiled reassuringly at everyone who'd looked up at her outburst.  Lowering her voice she leaned further into a corner to muffle her conversation.  "Dean!  You can't let him take you in like this!  You are way too smart for that!" 

"Jo, listen.  Cas heals people-" 

"For what price?" 

"And he doesn't get his power from a demon-" 

"That you know of." 

"And he works in this stupid New Age shop giving little old ladies home remedies, and he actually pays bills like a normal person, and he's a _nice guy_."   

Jo sucked in a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes.  "How do you know he's not just putting on a front for you?  For God's sake, you've only been there for a week.  You've barely had time to get to know the guy." 

"I know."  His tone had taken on that stubborn edge that always made her want to grind her teeth. 

She wanted to reach through the phone and throttle him.  "How, Dean?" 

"Look Jo, you're just going to have to take my word on this." 

"I'm just trying to look out for you."  Ugh, she sounded like a lovesick little girl.  That totally wasn't how she wanted him to see her.  

His tone softened.  "I know, kiddo.  But everything here is kosher.  And I promise you, if things go south, I'll take him out." 

She sighed.  She knew he could take care of himself.  He was one of the best hunters out there next to his dad.  Other hunters respected him, and those who had only heard of him were in a little bit of awe whenever anyone mentioned him.  "Alright, alright.  But I still expect my weekly call."  She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and wrapped her arms around herself. 

"Scout's honor." 

Jo rolled her eyes.  Dean as a boyscout?  That was actually kind of a scary thought.  "So tell me about your week, then." 

"Dude, I have got to tell you about this chick Charlie... she's a damn riot."

 

\------

 

“ _You’ve reached the voicema-”_  

Gabriel hung up before the rest of the greeting could play.  There was no use leaving a message.  Cassie probably didn’t even know how to check it.  With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and leaned back in his lounge chair.  As if by magic - seriously, he couldn’t have engineered better timing, himself - the sexy waitress appeared at his side with his order, and he picked up his salted margarita glass with a smile and a wink. 

Castiel had not called him.  Normally this would not be cause for alarm, since his brother wasn’t a Chatty Kathy on the best of days.  But he had hoped to hear some news about the Familiar Castiel had found.  And now Castiel’s phone kept going straight to voicemail which meant he’d probably let the battery die.  Again. 

His brother could be a little odd about electronics.  As in, he’d be perfectly happy living by candlelight and magelight for the rest of eternity.   

Luckily, there was more than one way to call his little brother.  

Gabriel knocked back the margarita, and hoisted himself from his lounge chair.  A wave of his fingers and an incantation shifted him from the pool side to his hotel room and he went straight for his baggage which held an old silver chalice.  He filled it with water, purified the water with another small spell, and poked himself in the eye to produce enough tears to add to the mix.   

He chanted softly, stirring the water with a twig of aspen that he carried around just for this purpose, and after a moment the liquid inside the chalice began to glow.  Then he waited.  Impatiently.  Getting Castiel to answer this way took longer than waiting for him to pick up a phone, but at least this way he couldn’t ignore it.   

After about five minutes the surface of the water smoothed into a mirror-like surface, and Gabriel lifted the twig out.  Instead of his own reflection, he saw Castiel’s image.  “Castiel!  You need to charge your phone, little brother.” 

“Gabriel?  What do you want?” 

“Man, is that ever a loaded question.” Gabe waggled his eyebrows, pleased when Castiel rolled his eyes.  “C’mon, Cassie.  Can’t I just call to say hello to my little brother?” 

“Of course you can,” Castiel answered dryly.  “But typically you don’t.” 

Okay so that was true.  After a thousand years, there wasn’t much small talk he could come up with, and they really only spoke when something important came up.  “You got me, bro.  I was calling to check up on your progress with your Familiar.” 

Castiel’s voice was soft when he spoke.  “He is not _my_ Familiar Gabriel.”  His eyes glazed over slightly, and his lips quirked up in a small smile. 

Well that was interesting.  Gabriel perked up and really began paying attention to his brother’s expressions.  That was one bonus of this type of communication over a phone call… free video chat!  “Do I hear a ‘yet’ at the end of that statement?” 

His brother’s eyes sharpened again, and he frowned into whatever bowl he was using.  He’d never bothered to get a proper scrying chalice like Gabriel’s.  So maybe it wasn’t a technology thing, and he was just anti-social.  “Gabriel-” 

“Alright, alright.  I get it.  You’re just pals.  But if you don’t want him I might stop by and see if he wants to be my friend instead.”  He was mostly joking.  He would love to have a Familiar of his own, but he wouldn’t steal one from his brother.  He had some standards. 

Castiel’s eyes flashed bright blue and the image rippled.  His voice was a dangerous growl that Gabriel rarely heard from his younger brother.  “You will not.” 

And that was the reaction Gabriel was looking for.  He grinned widely.  “Sure, bro.  Whatever you say.” 

The glow faded from Castiel’s eyes and he looked disgruntled.  He opened his mouth to say something, but a voice - a very sexy voice - in the background caught his attention. 

“Yo, Cas!  C’mon dude, I’ve got the popcorn ready.  Come pick a movie!” 

Gabriel leaned closer to the water.  “Two questions, Cassie.  Did he really talk you into movie night, and is he as sexy as he sounds?” 

Castiel’s answer was a glare, his eyes glowing slightly again.  “I have to go.” 

And then the water rippled and the image cleared.  Gabriel sat back and stared thoughtfully at the skrying chalice.  “Maybe it’s time to visit.”  After all, he hadn’t seen his brother in person for at least fifty years.  He really should just pop in and say hello.  

 

\-----

 

It turned out Castiel really liked movies. 

Every night for the rest of the week, Dean introduced Castiel to a new movie.  Charlie got in on the action and one night, she brought a crappy little TV that had to be at least fifteen years old and they set it up with a DVD player on a small table at the end of the fold out bed.  None of them got enough sleep because she’d brought her Harry Potter box set and they went through the first three movies before falling asleep halfway through the fourth. 

It had been a little strange waking up with Charlie curled up against one side, and Castiel  on his other, head pillowed on his chest.  It had been the tickle of Castiel's hair against his chin that had woken him up.  He reached up with the arm that had somehow ended up curled around Castiel's back and brushed his hair back.  It was thick and silky against his palm, and he couldn't resist the urge to curl his fingers gently through the dark strands.  They slipped easily out of his grasp because they were short, but even that tiny tug was enough to wake Castiel. 

The lean body against his own shifted in a long stretch.  Then Castiel was lifting his head and looking down at Dean with half-lidded eyes.  They stared at each other in the dim pre-dawn light, Castiel's eyes searching for something, and Dean felt exposed.  A pulse of want filtered dimly through the link, and Dean thought that probably should have bothered him, and maybe if he were fully awake it would have.  But instead there was an echo of desire uncurling inside him.   

"I want to kiss you," Castiel told him softly, the blunt words making Dean blink in surprise.  "But I believe that would be awkward with Charlie right there." 

Dean opened his mouth, but nothing came to mind, so he shut it again.   

Castiel smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.  "I just thought you should know." And then he rolled away, disentangling himself from Dean in the process.  He got up, careful not to jostle the fold out bed too much.  

Dean watched him walk away, stopping briefly to turn off the TV and DVD player, plunging the room back into nearly complete darkness.  He felt anxious suddenly.  Like he needed to get up and move.  Normally it was the kind of nervous energy that he burned off by working.  Whether it was cleaning, or rebuilding an engine at Bobby's.  But he couldn't really do anything like that right now.   

A jog would probably help, but he didn't really have proper shoes for it.  He reached up and gripped his pendant.  Of course, he didn't really need to worry about that if he just wanted to go for a run.   

It only took him a moment to realize that he had to get out of the house and move around or he was going to go crazy.  So, careful not to wake Charlie, he slipped out of the bed.  Barefoot, he made no sound as he padded across the room toward the front of the house.  He paused at the bottom of the stairs, looking up into the darkness of the second floor.   

Castiel wanted to kiss him.   

The feeling was mutual. 

For a moment he considered going up those stairs and doing something about what he wanted, but he just wasn't ready for that step yet.  It might be different if Castiel were someone he could get down and dirty with for a night and never see again.  But that wasn't going to be the case, and he didn't allow his feet to take him that direction.  Instead he walked outside, closing the door quietly behind himself, glad that the hinges were well oiled.   

Standing on the porch he took a deep breath of the cool morning air.  He could still smell the cut grass from mowing the lawn the day before - a chore that he had never actually done before, but had kind of enjoyed.  Above that, he could smell the approaching heat of the day in the dry, dusty air.  It was early enough that the sky was just starting to turn light blue along the edge of the eastern mountains.  With no one to see him, Dean felt comfortable reaching up to pull off his pendant.  He set it down on the porch next to his feet, near the door where it wouldn't be noticed.   

The shift began, and he felt himself going canine.  He concentrated, pushing himself into his favorite breed.  He shook himself, fluffing out his fur.  And then he began to run.

 

\------

 

Castiel lay in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.  When he'd told Dean he wanted to kiss him, he'd let his barriers down for just a brief moment.  He'd done it to remind himself that Dean didn't want him that way.  He'd needed that spike of anxiety to beat back his own emotions.   

Instead he got something reaching back to him, warm and welcoming.  Still nervous, but open and wanting.  He'd nearly slammed his walls back up, but he didn't want to startle Dean.  He'd gotten up and walked away, needing space.  Waking up pressed against Dean had been enough to make him hard, and he'd been just barely lucky enough that Dean hadn't noticed.   

If Charlie hadn't been there, though... he might have done something about it. 

He huffed out a breath and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow.  It didn't smell anything like Dean and he took deep breaths in an attempt to wash his scent out of his system.   

A few minutes later he tensed.  He felt the warp in the reality around Dean as he shifted.  And he sensed it when Dean left the yard, passing through his wards.  That was enough to propel him out of bed.  His feet slapped against the bare wood of the floor as he ran down the stairs and toward the front of the house.  He wasn't even trying to be quiet for Charlie, and he slammed through the front door, letting his momentum carry him down the porch steps.  He stopped halfway to the front gate, watching as Dean disappeared down the street.  He was a huge German Shepard, and there was no way Castiel would be able to catch up to him. 

"Dean!" 

He felt a curl of something through the link.  Just a soft brush of reassurance.  But it was enough to make him relax.  He dug his fingers into his hair, tilting his head back and trying to bring his breathing back under control.  Gods, he was an idiot.  Of course Dean would be back.  He wouldn't leave without his car.  And if he was in animal form, he must have left his pendant behind.  There was no way Dean would abandon that.   

"What's going on?"  Charlie sounded groggy, and when Castiel turned to face her, he saw that she looked as rumpled and sleepy as she sounded.   

He dropped his hands to his sides and forced himself to smile at her.  "Nothing, Charlie.  I'm sorry I woke you." 

The look she gave him said she knew he was full of shit, but she nodded anyway.  "Where's Dean?" 

Castiel cast another look in the direction Dean had been running.  "He went for a jog." 

"Huh." 

"What?" 

Charlie shrugged.  "You seem awfully worried if he just went on a jog." She stepped down onto the porch, and looked down near her foot.  She bent down and picked up Dean's pendant.  Raising an eyebrow at Castiel, she held it up for him to see.  "He's not typically into the whole shifting thing.  Are you sure everything is ok?" 

Castiel walked up the porch steps and took the pendant from her.  It was still warm in his palm, holding heat from Dean’s body.  He sighed.  “Charlie, I may have said something inappropriate.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” Charlie rolled her eyes at his horrified expression.  “Dude, I was using him as a pillow too.  Kinda hard not to overhear.” 

His cheeks were burning hot enough that he’s sure someone could roast marshmallows over them.  “I’m sorry.” 

She snorted and waved a hand.  “Don’t be sorry.  I’m proud of you for saying something.  You two stare at each other like you’re starving.  I’ve just been waiting for one of you to make the first move and relieve some of the sexual tension.” 

Castiel tilted his head to the side.  “You think Dean is attracted to me?” 

“Oh my god, that is such an understatement.” Charlie ran fingers through her hair, tucking stray locks behind her ear.  “He watches you all the time.  You invade his personal space bubble all the time and he gets so flustered.  And when I called you “dreamy”, he got super defensive.  Trust me, he is totally into you.” 

“He doesn’t like men.” 

She gave him a disappointed look.  “You don’t know that for sure.  I think you just don’t want to be his gay experiment.” 

“Of course not,” Castiel agreed quickly. 

But she wasn’t done.  “For the record, I think you should go for it anyway.”  He shot her a surprised look, and she grinned slyly.  “And I’ll give him the same advice if it ever comes up.”  She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, then spun around and walked back in the house. 

Castiel looked down at the pendant again.  He wondered why Dean decided to shift.  He’d had the impression that Dean preferred to stay human, despite that time they’d talked about Dean sometimes enjoying it.  He wished he could see Dean shift more often.  He’d only seen him change twice.  Once into a beautiful sleek black cat with yellow-green eyes and a thin whip of a tail that had curled around his wrist, and again into a huge shiny black raven.  Well, and now a German Shepard.   

He wondered where Dean was now.  He closed his eyes and let his walls down, letting himself sense the Hunter.  He caught just the faintest impression of wind ruffling thick fur and huge paws padding across the concrete.   

 _You spyin’ on me, Cas?_  

Castiel jumped, and then he began to panic.  He hadn’t realized that Dean could sense him.   _I’m sorry, Dean- I-_  

 _Whoa, I can hear you!_ Shock, then wonder, then a hint of wariness flooded the link.   

 _I’m sorry, Dean.  I’ll will leave you alone._  He put his walls back up.   

Charlie’s voice came from inside.  “Hey Castiel, I’m making coffee!”   

He set the pendant back down where Dean had left it and went inside.

 

\------

 

Dean ran, stretching out his muscles.  His jaw dropped open and his tongue lolled out the side.  Sam was always trying to get him to go jogging for his health, and Dean always gave him hell for it.  As a human, he was not fond of running.  It usually only happened if he was being chased.   

But as a dog… well, running was nice.   

His heart was pounding, and the burn in his muscles just made him want to keep going.  He panted, enjoying the breeze running over his teeth.  For a few moments he could forget about everything except the click of his claws against the pavement. 

Then a rush of concern flooded the link.  Castiel.  He didn’t know why Dean was leaving.  He should have known that Cas would know he’d left.  Would he think he was backing out of their deal?  The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, but he did think it was probably best to let  him know that everything was okay.  He sent a pulse of reassurance through the link.  He felt the tension in the link relax and then Castiel was gone.  He must have put his walls or barriers or whatever he called them back up. 

Part of him was glad that Castiel could do that.  Feeling each other like that was intimate in a way he’d never experienced before.  It was more than sex.  More than making love, even, and yeah he’d done that enough to know what it felt like.   

He really wanted to try that with Castiel.  It felt less strange to think it than he expected.  Only a few times had he ever been in a serious relationship, and both times he’d fallen into it quickly.  But he’d screwed it up both times.  He didn’t want to screw things up with Castiel. 

And was he seriously thinking about something more serious with Castiel than what their bargain called for?  He nearly stumbled at the realization. 

He should have kissed Castiel.  He should have walked up those stairs and taken what Castiel offered. 

The walls came down, and he felt a curl of curiosity.  He cut off the images of Castiel’s mouth swollen from kisses.   _You spyin’ on me, Cas?_  

Panic filled the link.   _I’m sorry, Dean- I-_  

Dean stumbled again.   _Whoa, I can hear you!_ Shock, then wonder filled him.  He’d never been able to hear Sam when he was turned.  Then a hint of wariness washed through him.  What did it mean that he could hear Castiel? 

 _I’m sorry, Dean.  I’ll will leave you alone._  

 _Wait, Cas, no-_ But he was gone, and Dean was left in the silence of his own mind again. 

That was _weird._  He had no idea what it meant that the communication could go both ways.  He’d never been able to talk to Sammy like that.  Then again, he didn’t know if Sam had ever tried.  Next time they talked, he would have to ask him. 

His lungs were starting to burn.  How long had he been running?  He stopped and looked around.  He was in a completely different part of the neighborhood.  It was probably time to get back.  He felt better, the urge to run no longer burning inside of him.  Now, he just wanted some coffee and some breakfast. 

Preferably Castiel’s pancakes.  He let out a soft whuff and turned back for home.  He’d deal with the whole kissing thing later.  If ever. 

When he reached the house, he could smell bacon and he bared his teeth in a grin.  He breached the barrier, and padded up onto the porch.  His pendant was where he’d left it, and he nosed at the string until it was hooked over his nose.  That was enough to start the change, and he looped it the rest of the way over his head when he had opposable thumbs to do so. 

He pushed open the door, already smiling at the sound of Charlie and Castiel talking over the sizzle of frying bacon.   He didn’t notice the figure standing in the shadows across the street, watching him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates. I finished my DCBB, and then I came down with the WORST COLD. I am still foggy from the medicine, so I'm sorry if this chapter seems weird.


	8. It's not a sex potion... probably.

By mutual agreement they didn't talk about kissing, but it was there between them constantly.  Over the next few weeks, they gravitated around each other, towards each other.   Castiel always standing far too close, and Dean doing nothing to put more space between them.  Their chairs on the back porch ended up pushed closer together, and during meals they would lean across the table, their conversations more intimate than they were before.  Castiel would occasionally reach out and touch Dean while they spoke.  Dean felt it like a shock every time, but soon, he was doing the same. 

Charlie kept giving Dean knowing looks, but he resolutely ignored her.  Jo would ask him questions about his time with Castiel on their weekly phone calls, and he would keep his answers deliberately vague.  He wasn't sure if he was hoping the sexual tension building between him and Castiel would just go away if he didn't think or talk about it, or if he was waiting for it to build up until Cas finally did something about it.  Because Dean wasn't sure he could.  He was Dean Winchester; Witch Hunter and Lady's Man.  His attraction to Castiel was a huge middle finger to his whole existence. 

But he still wanted to know what kissing Castiel would be like.  And his curiosity started invading his dreams.  More than once over the last few weeks he had woken hard and sweating, his hand hardly a relief, but all he was willing to concede to.  On those days it was harder to let Castiel close.  He didn't want to let on that he'd jerked off to mental images of hooded blue eyes above swollen, damp lips wrapped around- 

Dean cut those thoughts off as soon as they started.  Castiel kept the barriers up between their minds, but he didn't know how much of his feelings still leaked through.   

They didn't spend all of their time together, which was both a relief, and somewhat frustrating.  Castiel would sometimes disappear into the room upstairs where he carved, or painted, and Dean would leave him alone.  Sometimes Dean would go over to Charlie's small apartment where they would spend an evening playing Xbox games and eating junk food.  Occasionally, Castiel would go grocery shopping on his own, driving a beat up old International Scout that had been hiding in the small garage attached to the house.  When he needed his space, Dean would go for a walk, usually as a human, but occasionally he'd shift and go for a run or a flight instead.   

During those times, Dean enjoyed the solitude, but he also missed Castiel.  It was disconcerting, since the only person he ever really missed was Sam.  Most of the time he enjoyed time to himself.  

They were quickly slipping into something like domesticity, and Dean couldn't really decide how he felt about that.  

He was of course thinking about Castiel when he was coming home from a trip to the grocery store, when he started wondering why their daily lives seemed so… normal.  Castiel had told him that he wanted Dean's help with some major spell casting, and yet they hadn't actually done anything.   

Curiosity made him antsy.  Did Cas just want him around to play house with?  He couldn’t stop thinking about it as he put the groceries away.  When he was finished, he popped the cap on a beer and leaned against the kitchen sink, sipping the cool liquid.   

He’d been home for about twenty minutes, but Castiel hadn’t shown up to say hello, so Dean decided to go find him and ask him about the magic thing.  He refused to admit to himself that he just wanted to see Castiel.  He was pretty good at denial.  He chugged his beer, feeling the need for a little bit of liquid backbone, tossing the bottle before he went searching for the other man. 

Dean found him in the shed in the back yard, sitting on a tall stool and bent over a workbench.  He’d always imagined witches mixing their potions in a big black cauldron over a fire, and yeah he knew that was silly because obviously he couldn’t base all of his impressions on what he’d seen in movies and tv shows, but seeing Castiel using what looked like something from the set of Bill Nye the Science Guy was even sillier.  He had a full science kit spread out on his workbench, and it looked a little out of place in the rustic interior of the shed. 

He wondered if it could be used as a distillery.  Cas would probably have a heart attack if he suggested it.

Castiel was taking notes in a small notebook, cataloging ingredients as he weighed them on a tiny digital scale and added them to the beaker sitting on top of a bunsen burner.  Whatever he was making was boiling rapidly, and the steam wafting from it smelled a little bit like chocolate. 

“So wasn’t part of our agreement that I would help you do… magic… stuff?” He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his his chest. 

“You are helping me,” Castiel replied without looking up.  “I’ve been working on the weather since you agreed to stay here.” 

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it.  He searched his memory for anything that had indicated that Castiel had been working magic.  Nothing stood out in his mind.  “But I haven’t done anything.” 

Now Castiel looked up.  “You don’t need to do anything other than be nearby.  Your presence enhances my power.” 

“Huh.” Well that was almost a let down.  He had kind of been looking forward to seeing Castiel do something fancy.  Other than the first day they met when he’d instantly healed himself from the stab wound Dean had delivered, Castiel hadn't done anything obviously witch-like. 

Castiel tilted his head curiously, and Dean wanted to kiss him.  Every time he did that head tilt, or looked at him from under his lashes, or smiled, or hell even just stood in the right lighting Dean wanted to kiss him.  And it was freaking him out.  It wasn’t because Castiel was a man, though.  He’d come to terms with that pretty quickly.  And it wasn’t because Castiel was a witch.  Well, maybe a little bit because he was a witch; he was a Hunter after all.  But mostly, it was because he had no idea how to get the kiss he wanted. 

He knew what to do with women.  A little bit of flirting, a few drinks, and a well placed touch here and there.  But would that work on a man?  Would it work on Castiel?  The dude was old enough that any of Dean’s tricks would probably bore him.  He’d probably seen it all over and over.   

“Did you think there was more to do than that?” 

Dean blinked.  He’d spaced out, thinking about kissing Castiel and forgot what they were talking about.  “I’m sorry?” 

“Did you think you had to do more to help me?” 

Dean shrugged, and looked down at his feet.  “I uh, guess I thought it would be more… I dunno.  Flashy.”  He stared resolutely at the toes of his left boot, lifting it and knocking his heel against the floor.  “Every time I’ve seen magic before, there’s usually some sort of ritual attached to it.” 

“I’m assuming you mean burning incense, drawing symbols on the floor, and chanting in old languages.”  When Dean glanced up to see if Castiel looked as amused as he sounded, he was caught by the other man’s wide grin.  “I’ve mostly moved past that kind of spellcasting.” 

“So then what’s all this for?” Dean waved a hand around at the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling and the science experiment bubbling away on the workbench. 

“Potions.”  Castiel flipped a switch on the bunsen burner to turn it off, and used a large pair of metal tongs to lift the beaker.  He poured the liquid through a tiny strainer into a large coffee mug sitting nearby.  After setting aside the beaker, he blew across the top of the mug, then lifted it to his lips. 

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin.  He reached out a hand to stop Castiel, but he was too late.  “Cas, what the hell?” 

Castiel licked his lips as he lowered the mug.  The look he was giving Dean was full of smug amusement.  “Potions don’t always require spells.  But a perfect cup of tea might seem like magic.”  He held out the mug.  “Would you like to try it?”

Dean eyed the mug suspiciously.  He’d seen Castiel take a sip, _supposedly_.  But he wasn’t about to just chug back an unknown potion.  “Are you trying to turn me into a toad?” 

Another head tilt, and a flash of white teeth against tan skin made Dean realize the humor of his own words.  He laughed softly and shook his head.  “Ok, yeah that was stupid.”  He reached out and took the mug.  He looked down at the dark liquid and wrinkled his nose.  It smelled sweet, but he didn’t quite trust it yet.  He looked up at Castiel through his lashes.  “This is just tea?”

“Assuming I mixed it right, it’s either tea or a very powerful aphrodisiac.”   

Dean’s head jerked up, his eyes widened in surprise.  Castiel’s expression looked so perfectly innocent that he _knew_ the guy was fucking with him.  He had to be.  Well two could play at that game.  He gave Castiel a slow, lazy smile, the kind that most easily charmed the girls he’d flirted with.  “For your sake, I hope it’s tea.  I’m not sure you could handle me on an aphrodisiac.” He smirked and lifted the mug to his lips, watching Castiel closely for his reaction. 

This time Castiel’s eyes widened, and for just a brief moment Dean thought maybe he was drinking a sex potion.  Then the flavor his his tongue and he closed his eyes and moaned.  Despite the heat of the liquid he drank deeply.  He wasn’t a tea drinker by any means, but if it all tasted like this, he might give up coffee entirely.  

When he lowered the mug and opened his eyes, Castiel was staring at his lips.  Dean licked them, and Castiel’s cheeks pinkened, his eyes darkened, and his mouth dropped open slightly.   

“Cas?” He stepped closer to Castiel, practically standing between his knees.  The position made Castiel need to tilt his head back in order to look up at Dean.  “Did you just give me a sex potion?” 

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Castiel’s hand on his hip.  He set the mug down on the workbench to hide his reaction, but didn’t move away from the touch.  He wanted this.  At least he was fairly certain he did.  And seeing Castiel look at him like he was something to be tasted was adding to that certainty. 

“No,” Castiel finally murmured.  “But the fact that you trusted me enough to try it anyway was rather…” he paused and licked his lips.  “Interesting.” 

“Interesting?  Isn't that kind of impersonal?”  Dean kept his back straight but bent his head down.  If Castiel stretched up just a few inches their mouths would touch.  

“Would ‘sexy’ be the more appropriate term?” Castiel tilted his chin up, and there was only breath between them now.  The heat of it smelled like the tea they had shared, and Dean shivered under the combined force of Castiel’s low husky voice and the realization that they had both put their mouths on the same blue ceramic mug.  “Or how about enticing?  Alluring?” He paused, then whispered “Bewitching?” 

_I think you should shut up and kiss me._  Dean was moving in for it; he couldn’t waste any time speaking out loud. 

_You first._  The words came across the link between them just as Castiel’s mouth pressed against his, but Dean didn’t have time to react to the unexpected mental communication.  Castiel’s lips were dry, but soft.  Just a hint of stubble rasped against Dean’s own five o’clock shadow, and he was fascinated with the novelty of that.  Then Castiel’s mouth opened and he felt the slide of his tongue against his bottom lip.  He moaned, and met the intrusion with his own tongue, teasing, allowing Castiel to invade him for a moment before pressing back and exploring.   

_Oh my god, I’m kissing a man._ The realization didn’t stop him from wrapping both hands around the back of Castiel’s neck and tilting his head into a better position.  He curled his fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and held him in place. 

Once again, Castiel’s “voice” whispered across his awareness, somehow still managing to sound gruff and breathless despite not being spoken out loud.   _Do you want to stop?_  There was something uncertain behind the words.  A hesitance that said he would back off immediately if Dean wanted him to, but hope that he wouldn’t have to. 

_Hell no._  Dean pressed forward until he was pressed against Castiel’s chest.  Strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him tight against the other man.   

He’d been held close before, but never with that much strength.  Instead of feeling odd, it felt fucking amazing.  Dean was strong, and large, and often had to mediate himself with his partners, but with Castiel he could probably let loose his strength without worrying about hurting him.  And that was exciting in a way he had never experienced before. 

Suddenly his jeans were far too tight, and he growled his irritation.  Amusement, accompanied by a powerful surge of lust flowed through the link.  Castiel didn’t seem to be maintaining the barrier between them anymore and he could feel the other man’s excitement inflating his own. 

_If we don’t slow down,_ Dean thought even as he ground his hips forward, gasping at the friction when he rubbed against Castiel’s belly, _we’re going to end up fucking right here in the shed._  

_Gods, Dean, I’m not sure I can restrain myself when you send me mental images like that._  

Dean smiled into the kiss.  “What’s the matter, Cas?” he asked out loud.  His voice sounded wrecked, and he was gasping for breath.  “Am I too much for you?” 

“I think you’re both too much for me, Holy Gods, where’s my video camera when I need it?” 

Castiel stiffened, and Dean jerked back just enough to glare over his shoulder at the intruder.  “Who the fuck are you?” he barked angrily. 

“That would be my brother.  Gabriel.”

 

\-----

 

Dean glared at Gabriel from across the small table they shared while Castiel puttered around the kitchen making tea.  Plain darjeeling this time.  Dean blushed when he remembered the last cup of tea that Castiel had made for him, and he ducked his head to hide it.   

“So,” Gabriel said around the sucker hanging from the side of his mouth.  “You’re a handsome one.”  He gave Castiel a sly smile.  “Good catch, Cassie.  You should stick a collar on this one and stake your claim, quick.” 

Dean’s head jerked up and he opened his mouth for a hot retort, but Castiel beat him to it.  “Gabriel, I will banish you to Antarctica if you do not treat Dean respectfully.” 

Gabriel didn’t look the slightest bit fazed by the threat.  He pulled the sucker out of his mouth with a wet pop and leaned across the table.  His golden eyes glittered with conspiritorial amusement.  “I taught him that trick.” 

“No you didn’t.” Castiel thunked a steaming mug down in front of his brother, and set another down in front of Dean much more gently.  He settled in a chair between them, but he held himself slightly closer to Dean, almost protectively.  

“Are you sure?” Gabriel lifted a tawny brow over a dark golden eye. 

“Yes.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed.  A pulse of irritation flowed through the link, and Dean realized he hadn’t put his wards back up since the kiss.  “Why are you here, Gabriel?” 

“Oh come on, little brother.  I wanted to see if your Familiar was as sexy as he sounds-” 

Dean’s eyebrows went up.  “I’m sorry?” 

Gabriel winked at him.  “Totally confirmed, thank you.”  His features shifted, becoming almost serious.  “And I wanted to see how this curse works.” 

Dean leaned across the table.  “Look, buddy, I’m not _anyone’s_ familiar.”  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Castiel twitch, but he was too irritated with Gabriel to take much notice.  He was also feeling a bit raw from the overabundance of power from two witches in the room, and it was making him grouchy.  “And unless you’re planning on breaking the curse, you can just hop on your broom stick and head back to wherever you came from.” 

“Oooh, feisty,” Gabriel shivered mockingly.  “Are you going to bite me if I don’t leave?” 

“Gabriel,” Castiel snapped again.  Then he sighed, giving Dean an apologetic look.  “I’ve already been studying the curse.  I can break it, but I don’t think I can duplicate it.  If you want a Familiar, you’re going to have to find one the old fashioned way.” 

The fact that Castiel had been studying the curse was news to Dean, but as he’d already learned earlier, he had no idea how Cas actually worked his mojo.  He ignored that fact to focus on Gabriel’s words though.  “You want to know how to cast this curse on other people?” 

“I’d do a better job of it than what has been done to you, Dean-o.”  Gabriel squinted at him, and for once Dean didn’t feel slightly dirty under the man’s eyes.  “Whoever did this to you must have been a gross amateur.” His intense scrutiny eased and he leaned back in his chair, lifting his mug to take a sip.  “Either that or they _really_ didn’t like you.” 

Dean didn’t want to talk about this with Gabriel at all, but he couldn’t let the guy badmouth his little brother.  “It was an accident,” he grunted before sipping his own tea.  He wrinkled his nose, and set the mug down.  He’d prefer coffee, or more of that tea Cas had given him in the shed.  “My little brother was fooling around and I accidentally stepped into the spell he was casting.” 

Both brothers stared at him with identical dumbfounded expressions.  They did not look much like each other, differing greatly in height and coloring, but in that moment it was clear that they were related.  Gabriel was the first to break the silence.  “It was an accident?” 

Dean had never told anyone about that night.  Only Sam and Uncle Bobby knew what had really happened.  “Yeah, Sammy was trying to turn a toad into a puppy and I interrupted.  He tried to change me back into a human, but instead I just kept turning into different animals.”  He touched the amulet resting on his chest.  “They managed to make this anti-magic amulet for me, and it keeps me in human form.” 

“I believe the amulet is keyed specifically to Dean,” Castiel cut in.  “They have been unsuccessful in making others.” 

Gabriel tapped his fingers against his lips thoughtfully.  “So your brother was working out of a spell book?” 

Dean looked at Castiel uncertainly.  He didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell Gabriel about the spell.  Something that felt like reassurance and encouragement came through their link and Castiel gave a small nod.  Still he hesitated. 

“Dean,” Castiel said softly.  “Gabriel, for all his obnoxious behavior-” he shot a glare at his brother when he started to protest, “is like me.  He is a white witch.” 

The truth of that was easy for Dean to sense.  The power emanating from the older brother felt pure and strong, much like Castiel’s but almost like a different flavor.  The dark witches he had encountered while hunting had all had a rancid tinge to their power.  But unlike Castiel's power which he now found familiar and comforting, Gabriel's just rubbed him wrong.  It was like an itch between his shoulderblades that he couldn't quite reach when he tried to scratch it. 

Just to be stubborn, he kept silent for a few more moments but he finally sighed and leaned back in his chair.  "My uncle Bobby collects books on magic.  I guess my little brother snuck into some that he had locked up.  Sammy pretty much taught himself how to read and speak Greek so he could try the spell." 

Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he let out a low whistle.  "That's pretty impressive." 

Pride in his little brother made Dean grin.  "Yeah, he always was a smart kid." 

"I wonder if the reason things went wrong is that he wasn't pronouncing things correctly," Castiel said musingly.  

"No way," Dean was quick to defend.  "He's fluent." 

Castiel's blue eyes were sharp when he looked at Dean.  "But you said this was ten years ago?  How old was he at the time?  And if he was self taught, he was bound to make small mistakes if he had never actually spoken Greek with someone else who was fluent and could correct him." 

"Not to mention," Gabriel interjected, "if he taught himself from modern dictionaries he might have gotten something wrong if the spell book was an old one.  The language has changed quite a bit since I first learned it." 

Dean blinked first at Gabriel and then at Castiel.  While he did not participate in a lot of the research that Sam and Bobby had done over the last ten years, they did at least try to keep him up to date on any thoughts or new findings they had.  No one had ever mentioned the possibility of mispronunciation causing the problem.  "Huh." 

"Frankly, I'm surprised that he was able to cast the curse at all," Gabriel said.  "Kid must have had some innate talent." 

That caught Dean's attention, and he sat forward.  "Wait, but Sam is not a witch." 

"He might be like us, Dean." Castiel put a hand on Dean's arm, and a steady stream of calm flowed into him, soothing the anger that had started to build inside him at the accusation that his little brother might be the very thing he'd been hunting for so long.  "Gabriel and I were born with power.  It allows us to work our magic without dealing with demons." 

"But you said anyone can do magic," Dean pointed out. 

"Anyone _can_ do magic," Gabriel answered.  "But we all have to get our power from somewhere.  Some of us get it from within.  Some weaker spells call for ingredients that will provide power.  And some of the more complicated stuff-" he paused and gave Dean a significant look, "requires help and an outside source of power.  Like a demon, or a Familiar." 

"Well I wasn't a Familiar when he cast the spell," Dean said.  "And there's no way my brother would work with a demon." 

"Then he's probably naturally gifted."  Gabriel waved a hand around casually, indicating that it was simple. 

"Dean," Castiel asked slowly.  "Can you communicate with Sam when you are in animal form?" 

"I can talk to him," Dean answered.  "He can't talk back unless he, uh... talks.  Y'know, out loud." 

Castiel nodded.  "He must be a witch, then.  Only witches and psychics can hear a Familiar's voice when it is shifted into it's animal form." 

The revelation that Sam was a witch tilted Dean's world on it's axis.  He stared at the wood of the table while he tried to absorb the implications of that.  Was it hereditary?  His mom had always had a talent for magic according to John.  After she died, he'd turned more and more often to Sam for help with spells.  And Sam's abilities had far outstripped Bobby's by the time he was graduating high school.  Had Sam ever used Dean's power to strengthen his own?  They did most of their hunting together, so it was possible. 

A thought occurred to him.  He looked up at Castiel.  "But if he's a witch, why can't I hear him in my mind the way I can hear you?" 

"Wait, you've got a mind link?" Gabriel swung a finger back and forth between them, but he was staring hard at his brother.  "I thought you said you wouldn't bind him without his permission?" 

Bind him?  "What?" Dean felt Castiel's walls slam up between them, and he recoiled slightly.  Just before the barrier had come back up he'd felt a wash of panic and guilt and... self loathing?  "What the hell, Cas?" 

Castiel glared at his brother.  "I haven't bound him." Then he turned to Dean with wide eyes.  "I haven't, Dean.  You are still your own creature.  I would never do that to you unless you wanted it as well." 

He looked so genuinely upset, that Dean wished he would take the barriers back down so that he could reassure him.  Yeah, he'd freaked out a little at first, because that whole profound bond speech Castiel had given him was still fresh in his memory, however that flash of emotion he'd received was just now starting to sink in.  But since Castiel was blocking him again he was going to have to - he sighed - _talk_ to him about it.   

He cast a glance at Gabriel who was watching them with the same eager fascination as an audience member on the Jerry Springer show.  Dean glared at him.  "Dude, can you give us a little privacy for a few minutes?" 

Gabriel's face crumbled with disappointment.  "You're no fun." 

"I'm also not here to keep you entertained.  Beat it." 

Gabriel let out a long suffering sigh, but he pushed up from the table and sauntered toward the back of the house.  "I'll be out back."   

Dean turned to Castiel who was giving him an almost fearful look.  He kept his voice even when he spoke because he didn’t want Castiel to think he was angry.  "He's going to listen in on us, isn't he?" 

Castiel startled slightly at the question and threw a suspicious glance after his brother.  He lifted one hand, tracing a symbol in the air that Dean could almost see an after-image of, then he snapped his fingers.  "That should give us some privacy."  He turned eyes wide with worry back to Dean.  "I meant what I said, Dean.  I would never bind you against your will." 

Dean leaned forward, crossing his arms and bracing them on the table.  He pinned Castiel with a serious look.  "I get that, Cas.  I do."  Castiel started to relax, but Dean wasn't done yet.  "But I gotta know, Cas.  It can't happen accidentally right?  You said it couldn't." 

Castiel also leaned forward, putting both of his hands over Dean's forearms.  "I swear by the gods that it can't happen on accident."  His eyes took on a slight glow, and Dean knew he was upset.  The glowy thing only seemed to happen when he was using a lot of power, or when he was feeling a very strong emotion.  He'd realized a while ago that he was the only one who could see it, too.  Charlie had given him the "you're off your rocker" look when he'd mentioned it to her.   

"Then do you know what's happening?" Dean asked.  "Because this whole link thing is a little more than I signed up for.” 

The blue glow intensified, but Castiel looked away.  “I don’t know, Dean.  I’ve never been around an unbonded Familiar before.  Most of what I know is from other witches who have bonded, and as I'm sure you can guess, they're not going to be very forthcoming about it.  Most witches guard their Familiar's quite jealously.” 

Dean stared at him for a long time.  Castiel still had the wall up between them and it frustrated him because he felt like Cas was holding something back.  Not lying exactly, but definitely not telling the whole truth.  He wanted to push the subject, but his mind kept wandering back to that wall.  He picked at it, not trying to pull it down, but trying to get Castiel to open up again and let him in.   

The barrier wavered, and then came down, just a crack.  Dean pushed at it, trying to absorb whatever he could.  What he found probably should have scared him.  It was warm and tender, and… 

And this was going to turn into a chick flick really fast.  Dean recoiled from the barrier when he caught a glimpse of Castiel's feelings toward him.  What he’d felt was too much to take in for the moment.  Especially when he’d just barely decided he was ready for a physical relationship.   

He pushed away from the table, pulling away from Castiel’s touch and ignoring the hurt in those wide blue eyes.  “I’m going to go for a drive.” 

Castiel didn’t protest, and Dean left the house.  He got in his car, and he drove.  He got on the freeway and he floored it, going north.  He drove until at some point he realized he was in Idaho, and then he pulled over at a rest stop.  

He pulled out his phone, and dialed Jo’s number, but he didn’t press send.  What was he going to say to her?   _Hey Jo, I have a schoolgirl crush on a witch.  How can I tell if he likes me?_  

Jo would come gunning for the demon possessing him if he tried to talk to her about relationship stuff.  Besides, he already knew Castiel liked him.  He could feel it in their link. 

He thought about calling Sam.  His brother was into all that touchy feely crap, and he would just _love_ to talk to Dean about it.  He’d want to share, and ask questions, and just the thought of having that conversation made Dean gag a little bit.  No, thank you.   

Bobby would laugh at him.  Charlie would encourage him, which wasn’t exactly what he was looking for right now.  Just briefly he almost, _almost_ considered calling his dad.  John wasn’t great about the whole feelings thing either - probably where Dean got it from - but he’d loved his wife fiercely and maybe he could tell Dean what he wanted to know.   

But Dean wasn’t really sure what he wanted to know.  So he flipped his phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket.  A few minutes later he was back on the road, heading for home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this story is turning out so much longer than I thought it would be. Damn my brain and its inability to come up with short and simple stories.


	9. As Real as Magic

"Dean, I think you're getting yourself in too deep with this." Jo wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder and let the long phone cord trail behind her as she stacked clean glasses under the bar.  "One witch was bad enough, but two?" 

There was a frustrated huff across the line, and she could imagine Dean running his fingers through his hair, causing it to spike up.  "Jo, I'm telling you, Cas is a good guy.  And Gabriel will hopefully get bored and take off soon." 

She didn't like the sound of this Gabriel guy.  Dean had spent the last fifteen minutes bitching about how obnoxious the guy was, but it also bothered her that he seemed so interested in Dean's curse.  If he figured out how to cast it, what was to keep him from just randomly cursing people into Familiars to get them off the endangered species list?  And Dean's only defense was that he _knew_ the guy wasn't evil.  He wouldn't explain how he knew, any more than he would explain how he _knew_ Cas was a good witch. 

It was all far too vague, and she was starting to freak out a little bit.  Especially since the last few weeks Dean had started to sound a little twitterpated when he talked about Castiel. 

"Maybe your cool-guy-radar is off," Jo said as she straightened and grabbed the phone before it could slip and fall.  "I think you've given this long enough.  You should just get the hell out of there.  Sam and Bobby will find a way to break the curse." 

There was silence for a few moments.  She could hear noise as if wind were blowing across the phone and then the distinct sound of the Impala's door opening and closing, cutting off the noise.  "You know," he said after a moment, his voice low as if he didn't really want her to hear what he had to say.  "If I could control it, I wouldn't mind keeping it." 

Jo nearly dropped the phone, but fumbled until she caught it and pressed it back to her ear.  She glared at Ash, who was sitting at the end of the bar, giving her a curious look, then turned her back on him.  "Are you out of your mind?" She hissed.  "It's a _curse,_ Dean." 

"It comes in handy sometimes."   

He sounded defensive.  She knew that tone.  She had seen the hard set of his jaw, and the narrowing of his eyes that usually accompanied it, and even though they were hundreds of miles apart, she narrowed her eyes and glared right back.  "Look, I get why you might want to keep the pendant, but-" 

He cut her off with a frustrated grunt.  "Jesus, never mind!  It doesn't even matter.  Look, I gotta go.  Cas is making dinner, and I'm sure it's probably almost ready by now.  I'll talk to you next week." 

She didn't even get a goodbye before there was a click and all she had was the dial tone in her ear.  She slammed the phone down on its base angrily.  This was not like Dean.  He hated witches, and he hated his curse.  But the longer he stayed where he was, the more he seemed to be changing. 

She needed to get him the hell out of there.  But she couldn't go up against a witch on her own, so she was going to need help.  There was very little question as to who it would be.  Her mom was right out because she'd just forbid Jo from going and would want to send John Winchester.  And she didn't really want to bring John in on this because she'd witnessed the kind of crap he gave Dean whenever something went wrong on a hunt.  She'd leave him for a last resort.  Ash and Garth could probably help, but Ash was more of a behind the scenes guy, and Garth was out hunting werewolves at the moment.  So that left only one option, really. 

She picked up the phone again, and dialed a number she rarely used.  It rang five times, and she was afraid she was going to get voicemail, but the line picked up at the last second.   

A deep, familiar voice spoke.  "Hello?"   

"Sam," Jo sighed, relieved that he'd answered. 

"Hey, Jo.  What's up?" He sounded worried, probably because she never called him with good news. 

"I need your help," she said.  "Dean's in trouble." 

There was no hesitation in his reply.  "Tell me what's going on."

 

\-----

 

It had been almost a week since Gabriel had arrived and while he didn’t stay with them in Castiel’s house, he was around often enough to irritate the shit out of Dean.  And Castiel too, but Dean could tell he was pleased to have his brother around, so he kept his opinion of the obnoxious man to himself.  And as often as possible, he escaped to Castiel’s shop, hiding in the back room just in case Gabriel decided to appear.  So far, it had worked as an avoidance tactic. 

It was Wednesday morning of the following week, and Dean was at the shop with Charlie.  Castiel had come along, but he was booked with tarot readings for most of the morning and they hadn’t been able to spend much time alone.  It was nothing new since Gabriel’s arrival.  It seemed like there was always someone around to prevent Dean from attempting to get a taste of Castiel again, and it was frustrating as fuck. 

Dean had finished packing up the boxes for delivery, and was hiding in the back room of Castiel's shop with a comic book Charlie had loaned him when Castiel came slamming through the door.  Dean startled and dropped the comic in his lap.  "Cas? What's wrong?" 

"Charlie is going to watch the shop by herself.  I need you to come with me." 

The urgency in his voice kept Dean from questioning him too closely.  He tossed the comic on the small table that ran along one side of the room, and followed Castiel through the shop.  He waved at Charlie on the way out.  She looked a little worried too, which only made the situation seem more serious. 

When they were in his car, and Castiel had given him directions he finally asked.  "What's going on Cas?" 

"I received a call from an acquaintance who owns a cattle ranch outside of town.  His cattle suddenly have a case of Fog Fever, and we're going out to help." 

Dean had no idea what the hell that was, but it sounded unpleasant.  He shot a side-ways glance at Castiel.  "This acquaintance knows what you do?" 

Castiel's shoulders lifted in a small shrug.  "I can't advertise it to the world, but yes, there are a few people who are aware of what I am."  He turned to watch the mountains as they drove north on I-15.  "How else am I going to find out where I am needed?" 

"Do they know how old you are?" 

Castiel turned a grin on him.  "I'm 29." 

Dean snorted a laugh and took the exit Castiel indicated.  "Smartass." 

Other than a few directions here and there, they fell silent.  And Dean began to wonder again about Castiel's age.  In comparison to Castiel, everyone was a baby.  Dean was only 25.  What was a quarter of a century next to a millennium? 

"So does it bother you that you don't have any friends your age?" He asked after a little while. 

"I have a few friends my age," Castiel answered casually, as if the revelation that he knew several people over a thousand years old was as simple as saying that he knew a few people from two states away.  Then he tilted his head as he gave the question some consideration.  "Sometimes I feel like I'm surrounded by children."  He grinned, and the expression made the skin around his eyes crinkle, yet only managed to make him look younger.  "It's really difficult for me to watch reality television, or news programs that feature political debate." 

Dean laughed.  The conversation was derailed when Castiel told him to turn onto the driveway of what was clearly a ranch house.  Before he came to a stop in front of the building he asked the question that was really bothering him.  "What about me?"  He couldn't quite get _am I too young for you_ out, so he hoped Castiel understood.   

He did.  Castiel reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against Dean's jaw.  He smiled when Dean leaned into the touch.  "You are an old soul." 

And then the Impala was parked, and Castiel was getting out.  Dean sat behind the wheel for a moment, watching him walk up to the large ranch house's front door.  Mostly he was just checking out his ass, but he was also trying to assimilate the warm feelings Castiel's touch and words gave him.  "Old soul" was such a cliché, but Castiel seemed sincere when he said it. 

Finally he got out of the car and followed, gravel crunching under his boots as his long strides caught him up to the other man.   _Totally going to have to do the kissing thing again,_ he thought to himself.  Castiel knocked on the door which was painted a bright red and stood out starkly against the white wood paneling of the house.  Dean winked at him, and didn't bother to hide his pleased grin when Castiel blushed and looked away quickly.   

Two could play at the game of striking each other speechless.  And at the moment, Dean felt like they were even.

 

\-----

 

Castiel's business at the ranch took most of the day, and by the end of it they were both tired even though it seemed like Cas did all the work while Dean stood around and watched. So when they got home, neither of them were terribly happy to deal with Gabriel who had parked himself on Dean's couch and was steadily working his way through a marathon of Full House and a large bowl of buttered popcorn.  The only thing that redeemed him in Dean's eyes was that he took a look at both of them and ordered a pizza so they could relax for the rest of the evening.   

Dean curled up in one corner of the couch and resolutely ignored Gabriel's running commentary.  Castiel perched on the cushion next to him, munching on a slice of deep dish pepperoni pizza and rolling his eyes at his brother every once in a while.  The sun was going down, and a storm was rolling in over the mountains, causing the evening to get dark a little early.  As the room dimmed, so did Dean's awareness. 

He woke the next morning stretched out on the couch, with his arms holding Castiel tight to his chest.  Gabriel had gone, but apparently had not bothered to wake either of them to let them get in bed properly.  There was barely enough room for the two of them on the couch, and if Dean loosened his grip, Castiel might just roll off the edge.   

He pulled the other man closer and hooked his leg over Castiel's.  He wasn't awake enough to feel weird about cuddling with a man, so he just enjoyed the quiet broken only by the occasional birdsong from outside, and the soft rasp of Castiel's breath.  He didn't quite fall back to sleep, but he did hover in that grey area between sleeping and waking that sometimes comes with lucid dreams. 

His wings stretched, and while he didn't let the thermals carry him too high, he still allowed himself to drift over the land.  Below him he caught movement.  Rodents probably.  For a moment he was tempted to drop down and catch one for breakfast, but he preferred pancakes, and that's not why he was up there anyway.   

"What are you dreaming about, Dean?" 

Keeping his eyes closed, Dean was able to keep the sensation of flying even though he was a little more awake now that Castiel had spoken to him.  "Flying." 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

The stretch and pull of muscles, and the wind in his face was nice.  As long as he didn’t go too high, he truly did enjoy it.  “Yeah, I do.” 

"If you could choose one form, would it be a bird?" 

His dream body flexed its wings, diving down toward a large tree near Castiel's house.  Just before he reached the branch, he shifted, catching at the bark with sharp feline claws.  He walked along the branch until he reached the wide spot where it joined the trunk and he settled down, flicking his brown and black striped tail as he began to clean his paws.  He'd never really thought of what form he enjoyed best.   

For the most part when he shifted, it was into something people would keep as a pet.  A dog, cat, bird, or rodent.  He'd been a monkey that one time, and a few times he'd shifted into a snake or a lizard but those shifts were rare.  Since Sam had first tried undoing his spell, Dean had never been anything more exotic than that.  This was good, since he was sure if he shifted into something like an alligator or an elephant, shit would go wrong quickly.   

He thought about it now though.  In his half-dream he finished cleaning his claws and bounded down from branch to branch until he could leap out of the tree.  Another shift left him as a Dalmatian, rolling with his impact on the ground.  He was in Castiel's yard now, and his long legs carried him quickly across the yard.  When he reached the door, he nosed it opened, not questioning why he didn’t need to use the doorknob.  It was a dream after all.  His paws made no sound on the hardwood floor as he walked toward the living room. 

"I kinda like being a cat," he mumbled.  His dream self caught sight of his human body wrapped around Castiel's on the couch.  He jumped up, shifting one more time, this time into a ferret, and settling down on his own shoulder where he could look down at Castiel's face.  "Don't tell anyone, though." 

Castiel smiled at him.  He wriggled one arm free and rubbed a finger over Dean's fur, making him chitter happily.  "I won't tell, I promise." 

Dean opened his eyes, his awareness shifting from the ephemeral animal body to his human body.  Castiel's eyes were shadowed, but he was close enough that he could still see their intense color.  "Is this real?" 

"As real as magic," Castiel rasped.  And then he was closing the space between them and they were kissing.

 

\----

 

Castiel was surprised that Dean didn't laugh at him for that cheesy line.  He'd expected it, even as he'd pressed their lips together.  But instead of laughing, Dean opened up for him with a small sound that was half whimper and half sigh of relief.  Unable to resist the temptation, Castiel slipped his tongue into Dean's mouth, running the tip along the soft inner curve of his lips and the sharp edges of his teeth.  When Dean's tongue slid against his own, he sucked in a breath through his nose, because the way it made his head spin made him think he needed more oxygen.  A lot more. 

With a small lurch he changed their positions so that Dean was caught beneath him, shoulders caged between Castiel's arms where he braced himself on the couch.  Dean's legs fell open, and Castiel slipped one thigh between them.  The soft, pleased sound Dean made egged him on, and he flexed, rubbing his thigh against the growing bulge under Dean's tight denim pants. 

When Dean responded by arching up under him, Castiel knew he couldn't keep the barrier up between them.  He wanted to feel Dean's reactions, inside and out.  He dropped the wall that blocked their emotions from flowing back and forth. 

They both went still with a harsh gasp, and stared at each other.  Dean's pupils were blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of green visible, and his lips were damp and swollen.  Pure need was pouring through the link, and Castiel's eyes almost slipped shut as he reveled in it.  Along with the arousal, he was receiving images.  It was just vague impressions of nude limbs tangled together, and mouths and hands in intimate places.  "Oh gods," he moaned, dropping his forehead down to Dean's.  This was too intense.  Their desire was bouncing back and forth, amplifying each other, and with barely any stimulation he was already on the edge of orgasm. 

_Holy shit, Cas....Pleasepleaseplease, so close, so close, Cas, please...._  The litany of words was not spoken out loud because Dean had surged up and slammed their mouths together again.   

Castiel could not deny him.  With a low growl, he delved deeper into Dean's mouth, and resumed the slow roll of his hips.  For the first time in hundreds of years he worried that he might lose control and come in his pants like a green boy.  Then he realized he didn't care.   

And it didn't matter at all if he wanted to slow things down, because Dean's body arched under him, and he let out a high whine.  His orgasm washed through Castiel, pulling him along.  The sensations rolled back and forth between them, leaving both of them writhing against each other for several more minutes.   

Finally, Castiel broke away, rolling off the couch and falling on his ass with a loud thump.  He had to stop.  He had to.  The desire was still there, and if one of them didn't make an attempt to cool down, they'd never stop.   

Dean shifted up on an elbow and reached for Castiel, wrapping strong fingers around the back of his neck and jerking him back in for a kiss.  When Castiel resisted, he let out an annoyed grunt, but didn't drop his hand.  He tilted his chin down to his chest and gasped for breath.  "Jesus Christ," he muttered after a moment. 

Even as a pagan, Castiel agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.  He should put the barriers back up, give them both the space they needed to calm themselves, but he couldn't.  Every nuance of Dean's emotional state was open to him.  Shock, desire, some confusion, but also acceptance, followed by even more desire.  Castiel leaned the side of his face on the couch cushion and just let himself feel.   

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked after their breathing had calmed down.  He still had his hand wrapped around the back of Castiel's neck, and his thumb was running along the edge of his hairline.  He didn't wait for an answer.  "I could feel everything you were feeling, Cas.  It was like... like..." he trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. 

It was like heaven.  But Castiel didn't say that out loud.  "I opened myself to the link." 

"No, shit." Dean finally let Castiel go, and sat up.  He scrubbed both hands over his face, and when he dropped them to his lap, he grimaced down at the damp spot in his jeans.  "Is it always going to be like that?" 

"If I do not maintain the barrier, yes."  He missed the heat of Dean's touch already.   

Dean's head snapped up and his breathing hitched.  "I can feel that." 

"What can you feel, Dean?"  He should put the barrier back up.  He should cut off the contact between them.   

"How much you want me." Dean's voice had dropped back into the low rumble it had been when he'd been half asleep, his soul projecting itself out of his body and wandering around in animal form.  Castiel would need to talk to him about that eventually, to make sure he knew what he was doing and didn't get lost.   

"I do, Dean.  I want you." Just like he couldn't make himself put the barrier back up, he couldn't make himself keep his mouth shut either apparently.  "I want to do that again, unclothed.  I want to see you and touch you and taste you..." 

"Fuck," Dean bit out raggedly.  "Cas..." 

Castiel just barely held back from touching him.  He could feel Dean's desperate grab for control, and as much as he meant what he said, he also didn't want to overwhelm him.  Gods knew _he_ was feeling a little overwhelmed.  He'd had more than his share of lovers during the long span of his life, even a few empaths that he could share more than just physical pleasure with, but never anything as powerful as what had just happened.   

With great effort, Castiel pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps back.  He saw Dean's eyes drop to his own ruined pants, and felt a renewed wave of lust through the link.  His body was old, but his power made his refractory time short and he felt himself responding.  But he backed away, giving Dean space.  He began gingerly rebuilding the walls between them.   

Dean's eyes widened, first with surprise, then with hurt when he sensed the barrier.  "Cas?" His voice was uncertain. 

"I want you, Dean," Castiel said, and his voice felt as rough as it sounded.  "Gods, I want everything you'll give to me.  But I need to know that you aren't being influenced by my own feelings-" 

Dean surged off the couch and in two short steps was crowding Castiel.  His expression was dark.  "I was kissing you before you opened up to me, Cas.  I want this." 

Castiel closed his eyes against the burning green of Dean's stare.  “Dean…” 

“Cas, come on.  You can feel what I feel.  You _know_ you’re just making excuses.”   

Soft lips pressed against Castiel’s jaw, and then they were replaced with teeth.  The bite was gentle but insistent.  He tilted his head back, giving Dean access, and reveled in the feel of damp lips against his throat.  With the mental barriers up he felt more lucid, but when Dean’s mouth settled against his ear and whispered his name like a plea, his self control crumbled.   

Lifting his hands, he slid them up under Dean’s soft grey t-shirt.  The heat of Dean’s skin under his palms almost burned him.  “Upstairs,” he managed, gruffly. 

Dean nearly purred with pleasure, and Castiel grinned. 

Definitely a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fog Fever is basically pneumonia in adult cattle. Also, this is where I turn up the rating from M to E, because the next chapter is going to be all the smut.


	10. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, there be sexin's in this chapter :D
> 
> Sorry this took a while! I took a writing break to do some reading. I hope this was worth the wait.

Castiel took Dean's hand and led him to the stairs, and up to the second floor.  When he felt Dean's fingers tense and a sudden surge of nervousness bubble through the link, he walked past the door to his room and went for the bathroom instead.  After spending hours on a ranch the day before, and rutting against each other on the couch this morning, they could both use a little cleansing.  And he wanted to ease Dean into the new physicality of their friendship.  He was aware that Dean was a charming flirt that oozed self confidence with women - he witnessed it constantly when women came into the shop - but that the idea of being with a man made him nervous. 

He didn't need the empathic link between them to know that.  Dean's fingers had begun trembling as soon as Castiel had taken them in his own, and his breathing had hitched.  One glance at his wide eyes and slightly paler than normal skin told Castiel that he was feeling entirely out of his element.  The frantic clash of their bodies on the couch had been spontaneous and quick, and Castiel suspected that Dean's enjoyment of the experience was adding to the anxiety Castiel could feel pulsing softly between them.   

He wanted to press himself into Dean and murmur reassurances, but after weeks of spending time with Dean, he had learned enough about him to know that wasn't the best idea right now.  Dean didn't take well to being vulnerable, and bringing attention to his state of mind would only make it worse.  So Castiel planned a slower seduction. 

"What are we doing?" Dean's voice was a little raspy, low and confused, as Castiel pulled him into the bathroom. 

"We are going to take a shower," Castiel answered.  He dropped Dean's hand so that he could reach into the tub and fiddle with the controls.  He glanced over his shoulder, noting the way Dean seemed to pull into himself, shoulders hunching as he reached up and scratched at his neck.  He was careful to keep his tone neutral, emphasizing the non-sexual nature of the act.  "How hot can you handle the water?"   

"Uh, not too hot," Dean wouldn't look directly at him.  It was jarring to see him suddenly so shy when Castiel knew exactly what kind of wanton behavior he was capable of.  "It's a little warm this morning." 

The air _was_ a little muggy.  It had rained overnight, cooling the late summer air, but with the sun up over the mountains the damp ground was adding to the humidity.  He'd hoped that the storm he'd brought in would leave things cooler, but summer was clinging stubbornly to its record high temperatures.   

Castiel acknowledged Dean's request with a small nod and adjusted the water until it was just a little more than lukewarm.  He straightened, and without turning to face Dean, pulled the t-shirt he'd changed into the night before off over his head.  He tossed it in the hamper, then hooked his thumbs under the waistband of both his sleep pants and the boxer briefs he wore under them.  He swept both down over his legs, not acknowledging the soft inhale behind him as he stepped out of them and threw them in the hamper after the shirt.  He didn't even turn around as he stepped into the tub. 

He started to pull the curtain shut, but paused half-way and finally looked at Dean who's eyes were sweeping over him hungrily.  He couldn't help the smile that twitched at his lips.  That was not a shy look.  In fact, he looked so predatory that Castiel half expected the deep rumble of a growl, but was disappointed when it never came.  He schooled his features into nonchalance before he spoke and pulled Dean's attention back up.  "You're getting in right?" 

Dean blinked, his mouth softening with confusion.  "Uh, yeah?" 

Castiel eyed his clothes meaningfully before meeting his eyes again.  "Showering is easier accomplished without clothing." 

Another blink, and then Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.  Tension visibly drained out of him, and he pulled off his shirt and dropped it at his feet instead of in the hamper before reaching for the fly of his pants. 

He was always careful to do his own laundry, packing it back up in his duffel bag and washing it separately from Castiel's own.  "You can put it in the hamper," Castiel said, turning away and keeping his tone casual as he pulled the shower curtain all the way shut.  "I had planned to do the wash this afternoon, and I can take care of those as well."   

Through the opaque white plastic he could just make out Dean's form, unmoving, probably frozen with uncertainty.  Then he heard an irritated huff and the noises of cloth against skin.  He saw Dean's form bend down to pick up his t-shirt which he dropped with the rest of his clothing in the hamper.  Castiel smiled, and reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount of the spicy scented liquid into his palm. 

Dean joined him in the shower just as he ducked his head under the water to get it wet.  He kept his back to the other man as he reached up and began working the soap into his hair. 

"A bit cramped in here," Dean murmured as he reached over Castiel's shoulder and pulled the handheld shower head out of it's cradle.  "Good thing you have one of these." 

Castiel hummed his agreement.  "One of my favorite things about modern plumbing is the shower," he said as he dug his fingers against his scalp.  Behind him, Dean was spraying his back down with water, and he smiled a little at the gesture.  He twisted his body, allowing Dean to thoroughly wet him down.   

"I'd think modern plumbing in general is pretty fantastic compared to what you had before."   

The spray of water disappeared, and Castiel heard it splashing over Dean's skin instead.  "Indeed.  There are some technologies that magic will never replace." 

Dean chuckled, and it sounded relaxed and calm, with no hint of the nervousness he’d displayed on the walk up the stairs.  He reached back up and put the showerhead back in it's place and Castiel took the opportunity to rinse.  He turned, leaning his head back so the soapy water didn't slide down into his eyes, which were clenched shut.  When he was sure he had gotten the last of the soap, he opened them and looked up at Dean who was watching him with a heavy lidded expression.  His hands were sliding over his own body with the bar of soap that Castiel had made himself.  Castiel met his gaze for a moment before dropping it to watch Dean's hands, which slowed under his scrutiny. 

Dean's skin was bronzed from the few times he'd mowed the lawn shirtless, with a scattering of freckles over his shoulders.  Paler scars marked him every so often, but they did little to detract from his beauty.  Muscles bunched and bulged under his skin as he moved, but he was not overly defined like many of the men who sculpted their bodies in gyms.  Castiel appreciated the natural strength Dean displayed much more anyway. 

A low pulse of want came through the link, and Castiel's lips parted on a small gasp.  He refused to let his eyes wander any further than where Dean's hands traveled.  He was determined to let Dean set the pace for now.  When Dean's large hands slipped below his waist, Castiel was not surprised to see that he was half-hard.  His own body reacted, but he made no move other than to tilt his head to the side, letting the water run along the side of his neck and down the front of his body, cooling his overheated skin. 

"It’s weird how I can feel that," Dean murmured.  His tone was a strange combination of arousal, and curiosity.  His eyes dropped to Castiel’s own hardening length and he smirked.  “Not that it isn't obvious anyway.” 

"Do you want me to block it?" Castiel prepared to raise the mental walls again, but waited for a sign from Dean that it was what he really wanted. 

He received his answer when Dean shook his head in the negative.  His entire body was covered in soap, and now he stepped forward and rubbed the bar of soap over Castiel's collarbone in a long swipe.  "Not right now.  Although I wish I knew how you did it." 

Castiel tilted his head further back on his shoulders as Dean's slick fingers caressed the hollow of his throat.  It was a very trusting position, but it seemed to have the right effect on Dean who, even in his human form, was mostly predator.  "I can teach you, if you'd like."

Dean closed the space between them until their chests brushed together, the soap from Dean's starting to wash away as the water splashed against him.  Castiel closed his eyes and soaked in the heat of Dean's body as it slid against his own.  Dean was fully hard now, and his dick nudged against Castiel's hip.  He didn't shy away when Castiel twisted until their lengths brushed against each other, but he inhaled sharply, and then his mouth brushed against Castiel's jaw.  "Maybe later." 

Castiel brought his hands up and cupped them lightly around Dean's hips when he tried to surge forward.  Dean could probably overpower him if he truly tried, but Castiel was in no way weak and it would certainly be a struggle.  When Dean grumbled and tried to press closer, Castiel tightened his fingers, holding him at bay.  A rush of impatience and arousal flowed into him and he almost caved in to the silent pressure of Dean's emotions.  But he didn't relent.  "It will only take a moment.  And I believe it might be best if we did not rely completely on my willpower alone to keep the barriers up." 

There was a small part of him that was in utter disbelief that he was holding Dean back as he was.  He wanted him so badly, and they had barely touched each other.  Just the extra heat of Dean's essence flowing through their link was enough to put him close to the edge again.  But he did not want to just mindlessly fall into the ocean of sensation.  He wanted to be clear headed, not only so that he could remember every moment of their intimacy easily, but also because if he didn't exact a little bit of self control he was going to end up shoving Dean against the wall and fucking him without constraint.  Dean was inexperienced, and Castiel didn't want to hurt him. 

Dean huffed an annoyed breath against Castiel's jaw, but leaned back.  He resumed the slow swipes over Castiel's upper chest and arms, spreading more soap even as it washed away immediately under the spray of water.  "Fine.  Teach away." 

Castiel had to pause to take a deep breath.  He glared when Dean gave him a smug grin, but relented and laughed along when Dean chuckled.  "As I said," his voice was a low rasp, and he cleared his throat before continuing.  "It is fairly simple.  First you must picture yourself in a safe place.  A place you enjoy.  I usually imagine my first garden."  That garden had been abandoned so many centuries ago that no one lived that knew it had ever existed other than he and Gabriel.   

One tawny eyebrow went up and Dean’s lips twisted with doubt.  “A garden, Cas?  Really?” 

Castiel frowned, cocking his head to the side to see Dean at a different angle.  The change did not lessen his beauty.  Of course.  “My garden is the source of my power, Dean.  It is where I am safest and strongest.” 

“Should you be telling me that?”  Dean’s hands were now spreading soap up and down Castiel’s back, his thumbs digging into the muscles in small firm circles.  The motion also pressed them closer together. 

The slow seduction he had planned was never going to work if Dean kept that up, mental barriers or no.  But Castiel dug deep for willpower and did no more than tighten his fingers slightly on Dean’s hips despite the fact that he wanted to do so much more.  “I trust you, Dean.” 

The expression of doubt intensified.  “Man, Cas.  That’s probably not very smart.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t trust you?”  No longer able to resist the temptation, Castiel slid his hands back to the base of Dean’s spine and then down over the globes of his ass.  When he cupped the hard flesh at the top of Dean’s thighs he flexed his fingers, opening him slightly. 

Dean’s eyelids drooped and a low growl rumbled from his chest.  “I’m a Hunter.” 

Castiel snorted.  He had a healthy respect for Hunters, but little fear of them.  He would not, however, point that out to Dean.  He had another objective in mind for right now.  “Dean, pay attention.” He loosened his grip and brought his hands back up, stroking the base of Dean’s spine with both thumbs.  “For me, my garden is my safe place.  You need to find yours.” 

For a moment, Castiel thought Dean was going to ignore his instructions and kiss him, but then his eyes widened.  A thoughtful expression crossed his features.  “Ok, Cas.  I’ve got one.  What next?”

“Picture yourself inside that space.  Everything is open to the world.  Then start closing things off.  I imagine that the vines and bushes of my garden grow thicker and taller, eventually closing overhead in a dome.” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed with concentration.  Slowly, his emotions began to fade from the link between them.  Castiel reached out with his mind and nudged at the wall Dean had erected.  It collapsed, and indignation flooded the link.   

“Hey!” Dean grunted.  “What did you do that for?” 

“You need practice making the walls stronger.” 

This time it felt like a door slammed between them.  It was such a clear sensation that Castiel imagined he could also hear locks clicking.  A smile broke out over his face.  “It’s the Impala.” 

Dean’s mouth sagged open with shock, and his mental barrier collapsed again.  Irritation and curiosity flooded out of him.  “What the- How did you know?” 

“I should think it’s fairly obvious,” Castiel teased.  “My truck has hardly been used since you came here.  I know how much you love your car.” 

Dean shrugged and a small smile tilted up one corner of his mouth.  “She’s been good to me.”  His eyes narrowed and he pulled Castiel closer.  “Why are you trying to distract me?” 

Castiel could feel Dean’s intent, but he made no move to stop him from leaning down and pressing their mouths together.  He was through with stalling.  Dean’s nerves had calmed, and Castiel felt confidence tinging his arousal.   

He opened under Dean’s questing tongue, meeting it with his own and moaning at the taste.  Their lips moved together, separating only briefly while they each gasped in a breath before melding once more.  Dean tended to nip and nibble at Castiel's lips before sneaking his tongue forward for a taste.  His kisses moved from playful to soft, then back again and Castiel whimpered when Dean leaned back, ending the slow tease.  He lifted on his toes slightly in an effort to recapture Dean's mouth. 

Dean chuckled darkly and kept just out of reach.  "Gotta wash my hair, Cas." 

That was when Castiel realized he'd lost control of the situation.  He opened his eyes and glared at Dean, but he didn't argue, since it was his idea that they bathe.  He lifted one hand and hooked it behind Dean's neck pulling him forward into the spray to wet his hair.  Dean allowed it, leaning down and mouthing at Castiel's shoulder while Castiel ran his fingers through his hair to loosen the strands.   

Dean straightened when Castiel released his grip on his neck.  He moved to grab the shampoo, but Castiel snatched it from his grasp.  "Let me do it," Castiel growled. 

He received another arched-eyebrow, but Dean nodded.  Castiel poured a small amount of soap into his palm, set the bottle aside, and rubbed his hands together.  He eyed Dean, who was an inch or two taller than him.  "Turn around and tilt your head back so this doesn't drip in your eyes." 

"I have a better idea," Dean said with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.  Without any further warning, he sank down to his knees, looking up at Castiel expectantly. 

Castiel hissed in a breath at the sight of Dean's smiling mouth only inches from his aching cock.  "Dean..." 

"Wash my hair, Cas."  Dean tilted his chin up with an air of daring. 

Yes, he had definitely lost control.  But if Dean wanted to take over the seduction, Castiel was going to let him.  He sensed no more doubt from the other man, only desire and humor.  The latter made Castiel chuckle, and he did as instructed, digging his soapy fingers into Dean's sunkissed hair.  He took his time working up a lather, careful to keep it from Dean's eyes, and especially careful not to pull him closer to where Castiel was aching for his touch.  He dug his fingers into Dean's scalp, enjoying the pleased groan he earned for it, and watching every minute expression that crossed Dean's face. 

His ministrations turned to a massage down the back of Dean's neck, and green eyes dropped almost shut.  Castiel was reminded of a cat that was being petted, and almost expected a purr to rise up from the man kneeling at his feet.   

"Pretty sure I'm clean now," Dean murmured although he did nothing to move out of Castiel's touch. 

Castiel reached up with one hand and grabbed the shower head so that he could direct the spray over Dean's hair.  Dean kept his chin tilted up and closed his eyes, smiling slightly as Castiel rinsed him, running his fingers through the wet strands that were standing up in every direction now that they weren't weighted down by soap. 

Strong hands came up to brace against his thighs, nearly startling him.  Dean opened his eyes and looked up at Castiel through spiky lashes that held tiny drops of water.  He licked his lips, and without any further preamble leaned forward and kissed the head of Castiel's dick, then flicked his tongue across the slit.

 

\-----

 

Dean almost laughed when Castiel fumbled and nearly dropped the shower head.  That reaction more than anything made what he was doing a little easier.  Ever since he'd first kissed Castiel in the shed, he'd been dreaming of the things he wanted to do that went beyond kissing, and now he was going to try a few of them. 

Putting another man's dick in his mouth was not something Dean had ever expected to dream of, much less want.  But now that he was here, he found that it wasn't as intimidating as he'd thought it should be.  He still shied away from doing more than kissing and licking Castiel, exploring the head thoroughly to see what made him gasp and tremble before moving down the shaft and to the base.  Castiel was all natural down there, which made Dean hesitate momentarily, but the twitching muscles of Cas' thighs under his palms spurred him on.  It's not like he had been doing much downstairs grooming himself lately, so he had no room to complain. 

The dark hair tickled his lips as he mouthed at Castiel's balls, but he found that it didn't bother him at all.  And the breathy noises Castiel was making were egging him on.  He sucked one into his mouth and a shudder ran through Castiel. 

Dean released him and did nothing to hide his triumphant grin when he looked up at Castiel.  "How'm I doing, Cas?" 

Castiel cleared his throat twice before he spoke.  "So far, you are doing an excellent job of testing my self control." 

Dean slid one hand from Castiel's thigh to cup the base of his dick, holding it in place while he brushed his bottom lip over the head.  "Tell me what you want." He hesitated for a moment, dropping his eyes to Castiel's navel where a small patch of dark hair trailed down to where Dean's hand was frozen in uncertainty.  "I've, uh... never done this before," he admitted after a moment.  "I'm not entirely sure-" 

He cut off when Castiel's free hand cupped his jaw, tilting it until Dean was forced to look up at him.  Castiel's eyes were dark with lust, but his mouth was soft with a reassuring smile.  "Dean... you don't have to do that if you don't want to." 

The need pulsing through their link belied Castiel's words, and a small bud of a warmth unfurled inside Dean's chest.  Unwilling to acknowledge it, Dean shoved the little pearl of light into the imaginary glove box of the Impala he held in his head.  He didn't want that getting free where Cas could sense it, and he didn't want to examine it too closely himself just yet.   

He covered the momentary hesitation with a cocky grin.  "I want to, Cas." 

Another shudder ran through Castiel's frame, and he nodded slightly.  His focus on Dean was hawk sharp, and his gaze dropped to Dean's lips.  "In that case... put your lips around the head and suck." 

The words were already pretty hot, but in Castiel's rough tones they turned downright filthy.  Blood rushed from Dean’s head straight to his dick, making it jump between his thighs.  He ignored it and followed Castiel’s instructions.   

Castiel’s flavor filled his mouth, and he let his eyes drift shut as he savored it.  He suckled gently, careful to keep his teeth out of the way, and was rewarded with a soft moan.  Fingers stroked through his hair, but Castiel still kept one hand cupped under his jaw. 

“Deeper, Dean.” 

Relaxing his jaw, Dean slid closer, taking more of Castiel’s hard length into his mouth.  He only managed a few more inches before Castiel’s hand tightened holding him back. 

“Not too much.  Not until you’re used to it,” Castiel whispered.  “I’m not fond of choking my lovers.” 

Dean could get behind that sentiment.  He hummed his agreement and moved his hand to wrap around what he couldn't take with his mouth.  A pleased rumble told him he was doing exactly as he should.  He relaxed slightly and began bobbing his head, reveling in the feel of hard flesh against his lips and tongue.  He tried to remember everything he liked having done to himself, and experimented with different pressures and speeds, and very quickly his shyness over the act faded. 

Giving head was just as much fun as receiving it, and he was mentally kicking himself for having never tried it before.  But he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable doing this with just some dude that he picked up at a bar.  He probably couldn’t do it with Castiel either if it weren’t for the link between them.  Every stroke of his tongue sent a wave of heat boiling through the connection.  Every brush of his lips over the head came with a beating pulse of _yesyesyes._  

Castiel was no longer speaking out loud, but Dean could “hear” what he wanted as clearly as if he were stating the instructions out loud.  But the mind to mind contact was enhancing everything.  Dean’s own arousal intensified, and Castiel’s emotions reached inside him like tendrils of warmth, wrapping around him and spurring him on.   

“Dean… Stop, Dean.” 

He didn’t want to stop.  He could feel how close Castiel was to the edge, and he wanted to shove him over and then leap off after him.  Stubbornly he continued, enjoying the desperate frustration flooding the link. 

 _Dean, please… I want to touch you too._  

The pleading in those words cut through Dean’s concentration, and he let Castiel’s dick slide free.  He looked up to see Castiel staring at him almost desperately, chest heaving under the fall of water. 

 _Come up here._  

Dean braced himself on the edges of the tub and pushed back to his feet.  His knees protested, but he ignored it because Castiel was pulling him in for a kiss.  Unlike their earlier kisses, this one was rough and full of teeth.   

 _Show me what you want, Dean._  

Whimpering under the onslaught, Dean allowed an image to surface. 

Castiel jerked back with a gasp, staring at Dean in awe.  “Are you sure?” 

Dean surged forward and caught Castiel’s lips with his own, sending his answer through their link.   _Yeah, Cas.  I want you to fuck me._  

Castiel tried to pull back again, and his brow was furrowed with the same concern that was starting to leak through their connection.  “But your first time-” 

“First time with a _man_ , Cas,” Dean grumbled, trying to capture his lips again.  He sent another mental image of himself with an old girlfriend. 

Castiel’s mouth went slack, and his eyes glazed at the mental image.  “Oh.” 

Dean pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and watched Castiel absorb the fact that he’d allowed himself to be pegged.  It took him a moment before his eyes refocused, and they zeroed in on Dean.  “Bedroom.” 

Dean didn’t need to be told more than once.  He reached behind Castiel and turned the knob, ceasing the flow of water, then jerked the shower curtain open.  They nearly tripped over each other getting out of the tub, and Dean laughed.  Just like their arousal, the humor bounced between them through the link and soon they were both laughing.  But it didn’t stop either of them from making their way out of the bathroom, still dripping, and into Castiel’s bedroom. 

The next few minutes were a blur of wandering hands and whispered entreaties.  Castiel’s rough voice directing him onto his stomach on the bed, strong hands stroking over his back and thumbing his cheeks wide.  Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when Castiel’s tongue ran lightly up the crack of his ass, and he buried his face in the blankets to hide the heat in his cheeks. 

Castiel’s laughter puffed against his skin.  “You like it.” 

Dean answered by flexing his hips upward in wordless invitation for more.  Castiel obliged him, probing with his tongue for a few minutes before switching to using a finger.  He didn’t press inside though, no matter how much Dean whimpered and squirmed. 

“Patience, Dean,” Castiel whispered.  But there was an edge to his voice that matched the desperation flowing through the link.  Castiel reached for the bedside table, fumbling in a drawer and pulling out a bottle. 

Dean heard a click as it was opened and then a cool, slick liquid was drizzling onto his skin where Castiel’s fingers were circling and pressing.  And then pressing more, breaching him much easier than he would have thought.  There was no pain or discomfort, unlike the last time he’d had fingers in his ass, and he suspected Castiel was using his healing mojo to ease the experience. 

Castiel hummed, and pressed opened mouth kisses against Dean’s hips as he added another finger, fucking them slowly in and out.  “Dean…” he rasped quietly.  “You and I are both free of any illness… may I…?” 

The idea of letting Castiel sink into him bare sent a flare of heat racing up and down Dean’s spine.  The link between them was wide open and Castiel groaned, so Dean knew he didn’t need to verbalize his answer, but he did anyway.  “Fuck yeah, Cas.” 

He nearly jolted off the bed when Castiel’s fingers curled inside him, pressing at just the right angle.  And he keened out loud when those same fingers slipped out of him, leaving him empty and aching.  But then the bed shifted as Castiel crawled over him, enveloping him in heat.  It should have been uncomfortable as the temperature outside was going up, and Cas didn’t have air conditioning, but Dean welcomed it. 

He slid his knees apart in anticipation, and then he felt the blunt pressure of Castiel’s cock easing into him.  Again, he felt no discomfort, and he had the fleeting thought that sex with a healer was the best way to go, but it was soon washed away by sensation. 

He felt full.  More full than anything he’d ever experienced before.  And through the link, he could feel Castiel’s pleasure.   

 _Gods, Dean… so tight… so hot…_  

 _Shut up and fuck me, Cas._ He emphasized the thought by squeezing with his inner muscles. 

Castiel growled and bit down on his shoulder.  It was the first thing he’d done that wasn’t gentle and deliberate and Dean loved it.  He opened his mouth to say so, forgetting for a moment that he didn’t need his voice, but instead of words he choked out a sob as Castiel pulled almost completely free and then thrust back in.  Not hard or rough, but slow and firm. 

He kept that slow, even pace for what felt like hours, until Dean was pleading with spoken and unspoken words for more.  Castiel murmured unintelligible words between his shoulder blades, but Dean was beyond hearing them.  More than just their bodies were connected, and each time Castiel’s cock sank into him, a little bit of his essence invaded his mind.  He could feel everything Castiel felt as if he were the one doing the fucking instead of being on the receiving end.   

And he could feel Castiel’s awe at the experience.  Dean could hear every _never like this before_ that floated through his mind, and he thoroughly agreed with the sentiment.  They weren’t just having sex.  They weren’t even making love, although that was probably the closest description.  They were melding, both in body and in spirit.  And when Castiel’s orgasm finally crested, it rushed through Dean and he felt it throughout his entire body.  It dragged him over the edge as well, in the most drawn out climax he’d ever experienced in his entire life despite the fact that the only friction he was getting on his cock was from the sheets below him.

He realized with a shock that Castiel was whimpering against his shoulder because he was experiencing a second orgasm.  The pleasure rolled into Dean, filling him to the brim before flowing back out into Castiel, like water rocking back and forth in a single vessel.  And he was lost to it, all coherent thought drowning under the waves. 

He didn’t know how long it was until the pleasure began to ease and he was able to string a thought together.  When he became aware again, he was curled on his side with Castiel wrapped tightly around him still breathing hard against the back of his neck. 

It was still longer before his own breathing calmed down and he was able to speak.  “What the fuck was that, Cas?” 

Castiel’s arms tightened, and lips brushed just under Dean's hairline.  His voice was hoarse, cracking every few words when he spoke.  “The best sex I’ve ever had in my life.” He paused.  “And I’ve lived a very long time.” 

And Dean began to laugh.  He brought his hands up and covered his face and just let the hysteria bubble up inside him.  He curled into himself, pulling away from Castiel, who propped himself up on an elbow and tried to pull him onto his back.  In his mind, Dean slammed the Impala’s doors shut, rolled up the windows, and locked the doors.  Castiel’s worried questions barely registered over his laughter.  “Oh god,” he gasped between bouts of laughter.  “Oh god, I am so fucked.” 

“Dean,” Castiel managed to roll him onto his back and his face was a mask of fear and hurt.  “Dean, what’s wrong?  Why are you shutting me out?” 

It was the slight tremor in Castiel’s voice that finally cut through Dean’s hysteria.  How could he answer that question, when he wasn’t entirely sure himself what was wrong?  He curled his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and buried his face into Castiel’s neck.  His laughter died down to soft chuckles, and then finally with one deep breath he was able to bring himself back under control.   

Castiel was running his palm up and down Dean’s spine, and it felt really fucking good.  Dean relaxed into it, breathing in the scent of Castiel and his spicy, homemade soap.  He kept his mental barriers up, although he suspected that Cas could give them another gentle tap like he’d done before and bring them down.  But Castiel respected his privacy and just held him.  Patiently waiting for an answer to his question.

In his mind, Dean sat behind the Impala’s steering wheel, staring that the glove box.  He reached for it, opening the compartment and staring that the glowing golden pearl inside.  He didn’t touch it though.  Despite being completely unfamiliar, he was sure he knew exactly what it was.  He closed the glove box, shutting off the warm glow and began lowering his mental barriers one layer at a time, but was careful to keep that one part of himself hidden.   

Castiel’s near panic flooded into him, and Dean met it with soothing reassurance.  He lifted his head until he could nudge at Castiel’s cheek with his nose.  “It’s okay, Cas.”  He pulled away enough so that he could meet the other man’s worried gaze.  “I just realized something that surprised me.” 

Castiel’s eyes flicked back and forth as he studied Dean.  He’d left his own mental barriers down, and Dean could feel how worried he was.  Smoothing ruffled feathers was not something he expected to be doing so soon after the best sex of his life, but he did his best, sending good vibes through the link, and wiggling closer to Castiel to entangle their legs together.  Finally, after a moment Castiel seemed to relax.  “I assume you do not want to talk about it?” 

“Not today, no.” Dean snorted.  “Maybe not for the rest of my life.  But it’s not anything to worry about, okay?” 

Castiel nodded hesitantly.  “Alright.” 

Dean leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against his lips, smiling slightly when Castiel returned the gesture.  His hands began to wander, and he wondered idly if he had the stamina to do what they’d just done again in the next week.  “Hey, Cas?” he murmured against Castiel’s lips.  “Wanna do it again?”

Castiel made a pained sound, but then he rolled Dean onto his back and straddled his hips.  “You’ll be the death of me,” he rasped. 

Dean laughed again, but this time it was purely out of amusement.  “Well I _am_ a Hunter…”


	11. More Lessons

The shrill ringing of a phone woke Castiel and without moving, he groaned out a spell.  The obnoxious sound cut off mid-ring, and he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of Dean’s neck.  His lips curled up in a smile when Dean’s arm came up around his shoulders and pulled him in closer.  Their legs tangled together, and Dean mumbled something that sounded like a demand that he stay put.   

It was getting hot in the room now that morning was tipping over into afternoon.  Another whispered spell and it began to cool, leaving them able to more enjoy the cozy comfort of each other’s bodies.   

Castiel ran his palm up the center of Dean’s belly to his chest and back down, letting his fingers play over the soft skin.  Every so often a low, pleased rumble would emanate from deep in Dean’s chest and Castiel was positive he’d never heard anything quite that adorable before.  He wouldn’t tell Dean that though.  The Hunter was an odd mix of affectionate and aloof, and he had the feeling if Dean knew that Castiel thought of him as anything other than the hyper masculine man he postured as, Dean would start regulating his behavior again. 

The phone rang again, and Castiel huffed against Dean’s skin.  It took him a moment to disentangle himself and roll off the bed.  Behind him, Dean shifted over onto his stomach and curled an arm around Castiel’s pillow.  Despite the irritating ringing, Castiel paused to look.   

The freckles and warm golden skin faded into pale white over Dean’s legs.  He wondered for a moment what it would take to talk Dean into sunbathing naked to even out the tan, but the thought faded quickly.  He liked the contrast.   

He really just liked looking. 

The next ring made him sigh and roll his eyes.  Still naked, he padded out of his room and down the stairs.  The phone had stopped ringing, having probably gone to voicemail.  But by the angle of the sun, he suspected he knew who was calling him. 

When he pulled the little flip phone out of the drawer he kept it in and opened it, there were two missed calls.  Both from Charlie.  That was all the time he had to check it before the battery died.  He huffed in frustration and dug around in the drawer to pull out the charger.  Really, he had no idea why he’d allowed Gabriel to talk him into buying one of the stupid things.  The old fashioned wall phone he’d had before had been perfectly fine and he never had to charge it.  But Gabriel had spouted nonsense and “being mobile” and “texting is the wave of the future, bro”, and Castiel had caved.   

He plugged it in, but it didn’t turn on right away.  So he flipped it shut and wandered over to where Dean kept his things in the living room.  He’d seen Dean tuck his phone into a side pocket on his duffle bag the night before, so he dug it out.  It took him a moment to figure out how to unlock the screen, and another few minutes to figure out how to dial on the stupid gadget.  But soon he had it up to his ear and was listening to the familiar Mario Brothers ring back tone that he always heard when he called Charlie. 

“Dean!  Hey!  I’ve been trying to call Cas all day, but no luck.  I was going to try and call you next.” 

“Charlie, it’s me.”  Castiel wandered back toward the kitchen and began filling a kettle to make some tea.  “My phone died, so I’m borrowing Dean’s.” 

Charlie laughed.  “Cas, you should just keep your phone plugged in all the time, then you won’t have to worry about it.” 

A flick of his fingers lit the stove and he set the kettle over it.  He could warm it instantly, but there was a small part of him that was convinced it tasted better if the water heated gradually.  He turned and leaned his back against the counter while he waited.  “I have been informed that leaving it on the charger will ruin the battery.” 

“Can’t you just mojo it so that it stays charged all the time?” 

Castiel frowned, and looked out the window at his garden.  “I had never thought to, but I don’t think it is impossible.” 

“Magic is awesome.”  There was a hint of wistfulness to her tone.  More than once, Charlie had said she wished she had a little magic of her own because it would make LARPing so much more interesting. 

“It comes with its own disadvantages,” he told her, not for the first time. 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it Uncle Ben.  ‘With great power, comes great responsibility’.”   

Castiel chuckled.  Spiderman was one of the movies Dean had made him watch early on.  It was nice to understand one of the references that flew back and forth between Dean and Charlie like a foreign language that he was only just starting to learn.  “I assume you are calling about the shop?” 

“Uh, yeah boss.  You’re lucky I’m so awesome and opened it even though you’re a no-show.  Are you and Pretty Boy coming in at all today?” 

The spell casting he had done the day before had not left him overly drained, and he really should go in to work.  But an image of Dean’s nude body spread out in his bed flashed across his mind, and he smiled.  “I believe we both need another day of rest after yesterday’s work.”  He’d explained to Charlie why they’d left early at the time.  She didn’t have to know that the real reason they needed rest was because they’d sexed each other out this morning.   

There was a long pause.  “Did you two finally do the horizontal mambo?” 

Castiel jerked upright and nearly swallowed his tongue in surprise, causing him a mild coughing fit.  When he finally calmed his breathing back down, he could hear Charlie laughing hysterically on the other end of the line.  “How did you know that?” he growled.  He had known Charlie for several years now and he had been adamantly sure that she was not clairvoyant. 

“I didn’t until you freaked out!” Charlie managed to wheeze through her laughter.  “Oh my god, Castiel, I wish I could have seen your face just now!” 

He turned and began digging one handed through the cupboard for some mugs, setting them on the counter a little too hard before getting out some tea.  “It was my intention to let Dean reveal the change in our relationship when he feels comfortable enough.” 

Charlie’s laughter died and she cleared her throat.  “So uh… he’s not having a big gay panic, is he?” 

Castiel cast his eyes toward the staircase.  “I believe he is sleeping at the moment.”  He poured steaming water into the mugs and let the tea begin to steep, then set the kettle back on the stove.  “But earlier, he…” 

When he didn’t continue, Charlie finished the sentence.  “He freaked out, didn’t he?” 

“I am not sure, exactly,” Castiel admitted.  He fiddled with a teaspoon while he remembered Dean’s earlier hysterics.  “Something happened, but he shut me out and I couldn’t read him for a few minutes.  He eventually calmed down but now all I sense from him is…” he paused, trying to find a way to articulate what he felt from Dean.  There had been a very brief moment when he’d sensed something strong and warm, but before he could even begin to interpret it, Dean had slammed walls between them that were sturdy enough that Castiel would have had to dig at them pretty hard to get anything.  Dean had lowered them eventually, but not completely.  “Well, he doesn’t seem upset as far as I can tell.” 

“Well, normally I’d advise talking to him about it.” 

“But?” Castiel prompted. 

“That might cause him to really freak out.  He strikes me as being a little bit emotionally repressed.” 

Castiel could agree with that sentiment.  It had become clear to him over the weeks they had spent together that Dean had a very large heart.  He was always going on about his brother, and the friends he cared about.  And he was a lot kinder than he gave himself credit for.  He thought of himself only as a Hunter.  But he had told Castiel stories about teaching Sam to drive a car, and helping Jo pick out clothes for a school dance.  He’d talked about the people he’d saved on his hunts, and had gone sadly quiet when he finished stories about the people he hadn’t been able to save.  He was so much more than just a Hunter.  He was a caregiver, and a family man. 

But on many occasions, Dean had realized how much he was opening up to Castiel and he’d clammed up, boasting about girls or changing the subject to sports.  “Yes, you are probably right,” he conceded.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked.  “Besides, you know… abandoning me to your hoard of patrons.” 

Castiel chuckled softly.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen more than two customers in his shop at a time.  “I thought I would start with bringing him some breakfast and tea.”  It may be after lunch time, but they hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. 

“Oooh, romantic.  Better tone it down though.  No pancakes or muffins or anything sweet.  Bring him bacon.” 

He grinned.  “Thank you for the advice, Charlie.” 

“Anytime, boss-man.”  There was a pause, and when she spoke again, the teasing lilt had gone from her voice.  “Can I ask you a serious question?” 

“Of course.”  The tea was ready, so he set a small spell on the mugs to keep them warm, then turned to dig out some bacon.  When Charlie didn’t speak for a moment, he closed the fridge and leaned against the counter again.  “Charlie, what is it?” 

“You don’t…” she huffed out a breath and tried again, rushing through the words.  “You’re not just into him because he’s a Familiar are you?  Because I think he would resent you for that.” 

Castiel stared down at the counter, running his fingers along the edge.  Did he only like Dean because he was a Familiar?  He had to admit to himself that the link they shared might be influencing his feelings for Dean.  But for the most part he kept a wall between them, and only caught glimpses of the strongest of Dean’s emotions.   

Would he still want Dean, if he were just a normal human? 

He thought of the first time Dean had mowed his lawn.  Castiel only owned a lawn mower because a neighbor had given it to him before they’d moved away.  He didn’t need it since he had the ability to regulate how tall the grass grew through magic.  But Dean had been bored and had found the mower one hot afternoon.  It had needed a few repairs before it would run, and Castiel had watched, fascinated, as Dean spent the next few hours working on it.   

Dean had grinned the whole time, even when he was swearing at something that wasn’t cooperating with him.  And his whole being had lit up with joy when he finished the project and the motor had roared to life.  When Dean had turned to Castiel to see his reaction, the flash of even white teeth against golden skin had made Castiel’s heart skip a beat.  It was a smile of childlike joy, shining from the face of a full grown man, and it had been both beautiful and inspiring.  Castiel had grinned back, unable to resist the force of Dean’s happiness.   

He had brought a chair out to the front porch so that he could watch Dean mowing.  It had earned him several exasperated looks, and quite a bit of teasing, but seeing Dean take pride in the simple task of mowing the lawn had brightened Castiel’s day.   

He hadn’t realized until then just how dim his existence had become.  A little over a thousand years of life had begun to make him somewhat jaded.  And Dean was constantly reminding him of the little things in life that made it worth living.  Like the scent of freshly cut grass in the morning, or sharing a bowl of popcorn while watching terrible movies, or having someone else in the house easing the loneliness even if they were in a different room. 

“No,” he finally admitted.  “I would be happy to have Dean in my life for as long as he would have me.  Cursed, or not.” 

“Wow, I’m getting a little choked up over here.” Charlie did sound a little strained, but the smile was clear in her voice.  “I’d better let you go make him breakfast then.  You two lovebirds take your time.  I’ve got things handled here.” 

“Thank you, Charlie,” Castiel said sincerely.  “And I don’t just mean for watching the shop.” 

“I know.  Catch you later, boss.  And charge your phone!” 

He said his goodbyes and set the phone aside.  Frying bacon was messy and time consuming, not to mention dangerous since he was still nude.  And he’d already been downstairs longer than he intended, so he pulled out a plate and with a sigil drawn in the air and a few words of latin he took the magical shortcut.  He set the plate piled high with fresh, crispy bacon and the bespelled mugs of tea on a tray and, and as an afterthought added Dean’s phone, then carried them upstairs.

Dean was still sprawled across the bed, and Castiel paused in the doorway to take in the sight of smooth skin over strong muscles, a little bit of pudge here and there, and long bowed legs.  He’d picked a very beautiful lover, and he couldn’t help smiling at the thought. 

“If that’s bacon, I might thank you with another blowjob,” Dean mumbled into Castiel’s pillow. 

The gruffness of Dean’s voice didn’t detract from the playful tone, and Castiel laughed softly.  “Yes, I have brought bacon.  I figured some protein would do you good after this morning’s strenuous activities.” 

In an effortless display of flexing muscles, Dean rolled onto his side and squinted at Castiel.  A smirk played about his lips.  “Does that mean I’m getting a share of that bacon, or did you have another kind of protein in mind?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes at the innuendo, which was apparently the reaction Dean had been aiming for because he laughed and twisted himself up into a sitting position, seeming completely at ease with their nudity.  Castiel knelt on the bed, and settled the tray down where they both could reach it.  He grabbed a piece of bacon and bit off half of it, then spoke as he chewed.  “Maybe both.”  Two could play at that game. 

Dean responded by waggling his brows and grabbing his own piece of bacon.  He peered down at the mugs.  “What, no coffee?”   

“It is the same tea I made in the shed the other day,” Castiel said before taking another bite of food.  “You seemed to enjoy it.” 

To his surprise, Dean flushed bright red.  “Uh, it’s not _really_ a sex potion, is it?” 

Castiel kept his voice bland.  “I don’t believe I need to give you one.  Do you?” 

Dean flashed him a narrow eyed glare, searching Castiel as if to seek out the truth of his words.  Castiel felt Dean probing at the light barrier he held between them, and he let it grow even thinner so Dean could feel his amusement. 

With a snort, Dean rolled his eyes and picked up his tea.  “I didn’t take you for a tease, Cas.”  His lips turned up in a smile as he lifted the mug for a sip.  “But I like it.” 

Castiel took a sip from his own mug, swallowing it down to clear his throat before he spoke.  “Dean… This change in our relationship-” 

“Dude, can we… can we not talk about it right now?” Dean shifted until he could pull a sheet over his lap, and Castiel felt the mental barriers between them strengthen.  Dean was a very quick learner, and his walls were stronger every time he put them up.  “I’m not really a feelings kind of guy.  We had some fun, and I’d like to do it some more if you’re up for it.  But I don’t want to-” he waved a hand in the air, “get all Lifetime channel about this, alright?” 

He’d been worried that Dean might react this way.  Castiel sighed and set his tea down on the tray.  He reached out and took Dean’s mug, and put it on the tray as well before moving it all onto the bedside table.  He ignored Dean’s cautious look, and crawled across the bed until his face was only inches from Dean’s.  “Would the Playboy channel be more to your liking?” he asked in a low voice.   

Dean blinked at him, obviously thrown by the fact that Castiel was not going to push him to talk.  Then he smiled.  “Dude, really?  Did you just make a pop culture reference?”

Castiel moved forward a little more, forcing Dean to lean back.  “I am not entirely uneducated, Dean.” He let his eyes drop from Dean’s eyes to his lips, and then lower, examining the golden body braced below him.  He placed his palm on Dean’s chest, exerting just enough pressure that Dean fell back onto his elbows.  Castiel dropped his head to slowly lick over one of Dean’s nipples which hardened immediately under his tongue.  “In fact, I believe there are many things I can teach you.” 

Dean’s breathing hitched.  “That so?” 

In answer, Castiel flicked his tongue against Dean’s nipple again.  Then he trailed his mouth up to Dean’s neck, peppering his skin with suckling kisses and light bites.  When he reached Dean’s pulse he closed his lips over the sensitive skin, sucked once before moving up further until his lips were against Dean’s ear.  “If you wish.” 

A shudder ran through Dean and his head tilted in an unconscious request for more.  Castiel smiled.  “Lie back, Dean.” 

Dean let his elbows slip out from under him so that he was fully reclined on the bed.  His eyes watched Castiel almost warily, but there was hunger in his stare as well.   

“Put your hands behind your head, and don’t move them,” Castiel instructed. 

Once again, Dean obeyed without hesitation.  It was heady knowing that Dean was following his orders.  He had enough power to force Dean to his will, but seeing him take Castiel’s instructions of his own free will was incredibly arousing.   

Castiel held himself up on his hands and knees over Dean and just looked his fill.  Dean was already half hard, and Castiel smirked.  He whispered an incantation and felt a low hum of energy fill him.  His lips and his fingertips began to tingle.  He met Dean’s eyes, and reiterated his order.  “Keep your hands there.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Cas, I got it,” Dean huffed.

That was enough reassurance for now.  Castiel leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Dean’s, reveling in the other man’s shocked gasp.  The tingle in his lips would be transferring to Dean wherever they touched.  It didn’t take long before Dean was kissing him back hungrily, and that is when Castiel lifted one hand and ran it over Dean’s ribs. 

Dean arched up off the bed and keened low in his throat.  But he kept his hands behind his head as he’d been told.   

Castiel straddled Dean’s thighs and sat up.  Watching Dean’s face for every reaction, he began running his bespelled fingertips over Dean’s skin in random patterns.  Every hiss of pleasure, and ever panted plea spurred him on.  He stayed away from erogenous zones at first, not wanting to overwhelm Dean with sensation.  But slowly he moved closer, until he was circling Dean’s nipples with his index fingers.  

Dean’s chest heaved with every breath, and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip.  But despite the way his muscles bunched and twitched, he hadn’t moved his hands.  “Very good, Dean,” Castiel told him softly.  “Gods, but you’re beautiful like this.” 

If Dean had not already been flushed with arousal, he probably would have blushed if the chagrined expression that graced his features was any indication.  “Cas, I’m not a woman.” 

Castiel ran the tips of his fingers down Dean’s abs, to his hips, and then finally ran one finger up the underside of Dean’s straining cock.  Dean tilted his head back and let out a small, wordless shout as the tingle transferred from Castiel’s fingers into his hardened flesh.  “I believe that is quite obvious, Dean,” Castiel murmured.  He circled the head of Dean’s dick with the tip of his finger, pressing gently at the slit occasionally. 

Dean was squirming, his body attempting to escape, but pinned by Castiel’s weight on his thighs.  His hips betrayed him by thrusting up, trying to get more.  “Jesus, Cas, what the hell are you doing to me?” His voice was hoarse, breaking on the last word. 

He didn’t answer.  Instead he leaned down and took the head of Dean’s cock in his mouth.  This time Dean’s whole body arched, and he growled what Castiel suspected was every curse word he knew.  Castiel braced his hands against Dean’s hips, pushing him back down into the mattress, and savored the musky precum on his tongue.  Then he proceeded to show Dean just how much more experienced he was at sucking dick. 

Whenever Dean came close to orgasm, Castiel gripped the base of his cock tightly to prevent it.  After the third time he expected Dean to finally move his hands, but he didn’t.  Instead he just kept up a steady stream of curses and praise.   

When the begging started, Castiel finally relented and sat back on Dean’s thighs again.  He canceled the spell and ran his hands up and down Dean’s flanks in a soothing gesture.   

After a few minutes, Dean pinned him with a glare.  “You’re not going to leave me like this are you?” 

Castiel chuckled.  A snap of his fingers floated the bottle of lube they had used earlier to his waiting hand and he poured a liberal amount over his fingers.  He reached behind himself and pressed two fingers inside his ass.   

Dean moaned.  “Cas, let me-” 

“No, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was gruffer than usual, and he pressed a third finger into himself.   

“Fuck, Cas, you’re killing me here.” 

Castiel only smiled at him.  When he felt he was sufficiently opened up, he brought his still slick hand forward and wrapped it around Dean’s dick, spreading the rest of the oily lube over him.  Then he scooted forward on his knees and sank down. 

They both groaned as the head of Dean’s dick slid into Castiel’s ass.  It had been a very long time since he had had sex with a man, and there was a slight stretch and burn despite his preparations.  He’d made sure to use his healing powers on Dean earlier to prevent him from experiencing any discomfort, but he didn’t use the same spell on himself.  He liked the first few moments of adjustment and wanted to feel every second of it. 

When he was seated fully on Dean’s lap, Castiel rocked once, not letting Dean slip out of him but only changing the angle.  “Give me your hands, Dean.” 

Dean reached to touch him, but Castiel intercepted him, lacing their fingers together.  He stared down at Dean and began to rock back and forth, slowly fucking himself on Dean’s dick.  The muscles in his thighs began to burn with fatigue after a while but he didn’t stop.  He just stared down at the man under him, watching him come a little more undone with each undulation of his hips.   

“Cas… Cas, please,” Dean panted.  “I need to-” 

Castiel leaned down and cut him off with a deep kiss.  He released Dean’s lips but only lifted his head a few inches.  He stared into Dean’s darkened eyes and let his fingers slip out of Dean’s. 

Dean’s reaction was immediate.  His hands came down on Castiel’s hips with a bruising grip and he began guiding him, sliding him up and off his dick before slamming him back down, making Castiel cry out when the angle changed.  Each time Dean fucked into him, he was hitting Castiel where the pleasure would be most intense.   

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean grunted before surging up into a sitting position.  He buried his face against Castiel’s chest, wrapped around his arms around his waist and thrust up while pulling Castiel down at the same time.   

Castiel held onto Dean’s shoulders and pressed his lips to his forehead.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on keeping the mental barrier up between them.  He wanted to feel Dean’s pleasure as his own, just liked they’d done earlier.  But his conversation with Charlie was still fresh in his mind.  He wanted to feel Dean’s body, not his soul.  He had to make sure that he’d spoken the truth.  Because when he lifted Dean’s curse, they would lose this link, and he didn’t want to become addicted to it.   

He could feel Dean pressing at his barriers, and Gods but he wanted to let him in.  Dean’s movements were becoming rough and erratic, and Castiel knew he was getting close.  He was edging closer to his own orgasm, every brush of Dean’s stomach against his own hardened flesh was sending spikes of pleasure up his spine.  He was almost there, he just needed- 

“Cas, please.” Dean leaned his head up enough to mouth and Castiel’s throat.  “Please, let me feel you.” 

His resolve crumbled, bringing his barriers down with it.  Dean’s pleasure rushed into him through the link, and he let out a choked sob at the same time that Dean let out a rough curse. 

Dean shifted, rolling Castiel onto his back without pulling out.  Castiel would have been impressed if he weren’t wallowing in waves of ecstasy.  Bracing himself on one arm, Dean fucked into him deep and hard while reaching between them to wrap his hands around Castiel’s leaking cock, squeezing and stroking.  The amulet hung down from his neck, rocking wildly with Dean’s movements. 

It didn’t take long at all before Castiel was coming, hot and wet over Dean’s hand and his own stomach.  And he felt it a few second later when Dean reached his own climax, extending Castiel’s as the pleasure began rolling back and forth between them again.   

Dean’s body went still, taught muscles locking him deep inside Castiel.  When Castiel managed to open his eyes, he could see that Dean’s were clenched shut, his teeth clamped down tight over his bottom lip.  And then all the tension left his body and he collapsed, shaking, into Castiel’s arms. 

Moving took monumental effort, but Castiel stroked both palms up and down Dean’s back while they both struggled to catch their breath.  Dean relaxed into him even further and nuzzled his cheek against Castiel’s.  Their beard stubble caught against each other, but they both leaned into the touch, ignoring the prickle.  Dean shifted, pulling out but only adjusting himself so he could lay comfortably between Castiel’s thighs, oblivious of the sticky evidence of Castiel’s orgasm smearing between their stomachs. 

Castiel wasn’t aware of how long they lay wrapped around each other like that.  Time seemed to stand still, and he couldn’t bother opening his eyes to see if the light in the room had changed.  He was too busy picking apart the emotions coming through the link.  Dean had his barriers mostly down, although there were still parts of his mind that Castiel couldn’t feel.  What he could sense was mostly drowsy satiation and contentment, although occasionally there was a spark of uncertainty which told him Dean was probably thinking about things he wouldn’t want to share just yet, so Castiel didn’t probe further.  He just let the overflow of Dean’s emotions brush against him and left himself open so Dean could sense his own lingering contentment and hopefully take comfort from it. 

“I still don’t want to talk about this,” Dean finally mumbled. 

Castiel made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.  He did want to talk about it, but he could be patient.  He felt the warmth of sunlight on his skin as it filtered through the almost sheer white curtains, and he tightened his arms around Dean before rolling over until they were on their sides facing each other and the light was warming Castiel’s whole back.  He opened his eyes and found Dean staring at him, his eyes wide and his mouth twisted with an uneasiness that was starting to slip into the link between them. 

He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb along the trail of freckles under Dean’s eye.  He wished there was a spell that could stop time so that they could stay entwined like this forever.  They wouldn’t have to talk about what the future held for them.  He wouldn’t have to consider the fact that Dean would probably leave him once his curse was lifted and he would be alone again. 

“Me either,” Castiel rasped.  His reluctance had different roots than Dean’s, he was sure.  But he was no longer eager to break the bubble of peace they floated in.  “We have time.” 

Dean opened his mouth, but Castiel would never find out what he planned to say.  Before he could speak the bedroom door slammed open and Gabriel stood in the doorway.   

“Sorry to interrupt the cuddle pile, boys.  But we’ve got a problem.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had not intended to write another sex scene, but this totally happened:
> 
> Me: Time to advance the plot!  
> D&C: No. Sex.  
> Me: You just had sex. Twice.  
> D: *smirk* yeah  
> C: We can go again.  
> Me: Aren't you worn out yet?  
> C: MAGIC.  
> Me: But-  
> C: Maaaaaagic.  
> Me: But plot-  
> D&C: But seeeeeeeex.  
> D: *snickers* buttsex!  
> Me: ....  
> Me: Fine.  
> D&C: *sex noises*  
> Me: *facepalm*


	12. Unexpected, But Not Unwelcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry for the delay. I got wrapped up in my DCBB again, and then all I wanted to do was either read, or watch Star Trek with my husband. So basically I was lazy for a few weeks. But I'm back on it, and hopefully will be posting at least once a week! I want to get this finished before November. Because when Dragon Age Inquisition comes out, it's going to consume my entire life for at least six months. 
> 
> If you are a gamer, and you haven't tried the Dragon Age franchise, you should totally get on that right now :D

Startling Dean while he was naked was never the best idea, and if there had been a weapon within reach, Gabriel might have ended up with a blade or a bullet embedded in his flesh.  As it was, instinct had him crouched over Castiel with his teeth bared in an angry snarl and his fist tight around the amulet he'd whipped off.  Just before he dropped the pendant and started to shift, he realized who the intruder was and tightened his grip so he wouldn't lose his human form.   

Gabriel must have realized his mistake because his normally jovial expression shifted, his golden eyes widening minutely.  He didn't exactly take a step back, but he did shift slightly away from the bed.  "Whoa there, Dean-o.  You don't have anything I haven't seen before."  His tone was mocking, but he still looked braced for danger. 

A low growl filled the room, and Dean didn't realize it was emanating from deep within his own chest until Castiel's hand came to rest on his spine just above his waist.  The rumbling stopped and he turned to look at Castiel over his shoulder.   

Castiel's eyes were also wide, although there was no fear in his expression.  There was surprise there, and maybe a little something like awe.  A tendril of that drifted through their link, along with something soothing.  The feeling was accompanied by the slow stroke of his hand over Dean's skin.  He didn't say anything out loud, but their connection was still wide open and Dean could hear his thoughts. 

 _Calm down, Dean.  He doesn't mean me any harm._  

Dean blinked stupidly at Castiel for a moment.  He _had_  been protecting Cas, although the action had been pure instinct.  It was silly considering they were in Castiel's home, protected by the magic barrier, _and_ Castiel was a pretty damn powerful witch.   

Castiel must have sensed his confusion.  He smiled reassuringly, his blue eyes staying with Dean even as he spoke to his brother.  "Gabriel, get the hell out of my bedroom." 

Gabriel didn't listen.  With his normal cockiness, he stepped further into the room.  "You're going to want to hear this, trust me." 

That finally snapped Dean out of it.  He shot a glare at the man standing in the doorway as he slipped the pendant back over his neck.  "Gabe, I swear to god, I'm going to stab you." 

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.  "Looks like you've already given your blade to my little brother." 

"Gabriel!" Castiel barked, his usual calm shattered.  Anger boiled through the link.  "What the hell do you want?" 

Dean settled down on his knees, still unconsciously putting himself between Castiel and the door and completely oblivious to his own nudity.  "This better be good," he grumbled.  Castiel's anger was only agitating his own already ruffled feathers. 

Gabriel settled down on the edge of the bed and pulled a Dum Dum out of a pocket.  He peeled off the paper and popped it into his mouth, and Dean bared his teeth again, tempted to reach out and shove the sucker down his throat.  Gabriel either didn't notice the prickling tension in the air, or he didn't care.  He grinned around the stick in his mouth.  "We have a guest." 

An expression of false concern spread over Dean's features and he nodded.  "Oh yeah, man.  I can totally see why that would be a problem."  Humor bounced through the link, and Dean held back a grin.  He turned widened eyes on Castiel, and cocked a thumb at Gabriel.  "I thought your barrier was supposed to keep unwanted guests out?" 

Castiel had sat up and pulled the sheet into his lap, but he still looked completely debauched with his hair spiking wildly in every direction and his golden skin still slightly flushed.  Dean felt another stab of irritation that Gabriel was seeing him like this despite the fact that they were brothers.   

Castiel must have felt Dean's ire because he brushed his fingers over his back again in a comforting touch, even as he played along with Dean's charade.  He nodded while giving Gabriel a meaningful look.  "I'll have to adjust the spell's parameters to keep out larger pests." 

The dig didn't get under Gabriel's skin in the slightest.  He grinned around his sucker.  "So I guess neither one of you cares that there is a Hunter parked outside, scoping out the house." 

Dean tensed.  A lone Hunter was rare, and he only knew less than a handful of men who would risk it.  If any of them had caught wind that there was a witch in the area, Castiel was in danger.  Not because Dean didn't think he could protect himself, but because if Hunters started disappearing in the area, word would get around and they would band together.  Castiel was powerful, but Dean doubted he could hold out against them forever.   

In a flash, Dean was off the bed and out of the room, heedless of his nudity.  All his clothes were in his duffle downstairs, other than the ones he'd tossed in the bathroom hamper.  He ignored Castiel's calls as he bounded down the stairs.   

 _Dean, I can deal with whoever is out there-_  

Dean sent back a not so gentle nudge as he dug a pair of clean jeans out of his bag and began pulling them on, forgoing underwear to avoid any delay.  The mental nudge interrupted Castiel and Dean sent back an argument of his own.   _No, I'll deal with them.  The last thing we need is a confrontation, and if it's someone I know, maybe I can convince them there's nothing going on and to leave._  

He sensed Castiel's reluctant acceptance.   _Alright, but I would feel better if you would at least wait for me to dress and-_  

But Dean was already striding out the front door, barechested and barefoot.  He'd only paused long enough to grab his gun, which he held tight against his thigh to conceal it.  He stopped on the sun-warmed walkway in the center of the yard and scanned the street.  When he saw the car parked across the street and several houses down with the silhouette of a man behind the driver's seat, he started walking again.  He barely noticed the tingle on his skin as he walked through Castiel's barrier, and he ignored the voice calling his name from the house's doorway.   

Dean kept his eyes glued on the car as he approached it.  It didn't take more than a few seconds outside of the barrier before the Hunter saw him.  Dean saw the man give a start before scrabbling for the door and getting out of the car. 

A very tall, very familiar form unfolded itself from the driver’s seat, and Dean came to a dead stop when he recognized who it was.  "Sammy?" It came out confused, and more than a little angry sounding, which was probably why his brother smiled sheepishly and stayed next to the car. 

"Hey, Dean." 

Despite his confusion, a wide smile spread across Dean's face and he started walking toward his brother again.  He tucked his gun into the back of his pants, since he no longer needed the protection.  "What the hell are you doing here, man?  What about school?"  As wrapped up as Sam was in his studies, Dean had been sure they wouldn't see each other until the holiday break. 

Sam unfroze and met Dean halfway, wrapping him in a hug that was all arms.  Dean pounded him on the back, maybe a little too hard as a punishment for being such a big bastard before pulling back.  When he pulled back, Sam still looked a little uncertain, and he glanced warily over Dean's shoulder.  "Uh, Jo called me." 

Dean knew Sam was looking at Castiel.  He could feel the witch standing not to far behind him because their link was still wide open.  Neither one of them had bothered to raise their shields again after that last round of mind blowing sex.  Other than that one little part of himself that Dean was still keeping blocked, anyway.  He could feel Castiel's curiosity, and maybe a small hint of wariness, but there was no threat to Sam.  And that was probably why the idea that Jo had called Sam and obviously talked him into coming out to check on Dean made him suddenly angry as fuck. 

"Oh she did, did she?" Dean muttered, taking an unconscious step back toward Castiel.  It was the second time that day he had taken a defensive stance over the other man.  "Let me guess, she probably thinks I'm being held here against my will and forced to call her once a week to tell her everything is fine?" 

Sam squirmed, his dark hazel eyes bouncing back and forth between Dean and Castiel.  "Not exactly..." 

Dean ground his teeth, speaking with his jaw clenched.  "Don't fucking lie to me, Sam.  You know you can't pull that shit on me."  It was true.  Sam had a perfect poker face, and could lay out a lie as smooth as silk to anyone, but Dean always knew.  Vaguely he wondered if it had something to do with Dean's curse.  Castiel and Gabriel both thought it was possible that Sam was a natural witch, and it was possible that Dean had a link to him like he did with Castiel, only much weaker. 

He refused to think about why his link to Cas was so strong.  Right now he was busy being pissed at Jo for not trusting him, and his brother for listening to her. 

Apparently Sam also knew that the falsehood wouldn't fly.  His shoulders drooped for a moment.  But then his spine straightened, and he set his jaw at a stubborn angle.  "You can't tell me that this isn't out of character for you, Dean.  You hate magic, and-" 

Castiel cut into the conversation.  "Dean," his hand came down on Dean's shoulder, squeezing gently, "Please, this is not the right place to have this conversation.  Come inside, and I'll make lunch while you two talk." 

The comforting touch and Castiel's presence in the back of his mind soothed some of Dean's anger, and he relaxed.  He unclenched his fists, and took a breath, blowing it out in a long sigh.  "Yeah, that's a good idea."  He looked around the neighborhood.  There wasn't anyone outside, but that didn't mean there weren't people paying attention to the confrontation.  He wouldn't put it past anyone to be spying from behind their curtains, and talking about magic and witches out in public was bound to cause problems.  "Cas is a damn good cook."  He said that last with a glance over his shoulder at the man in question, and a small smile.  They’d never gotten to finish the pile of bacon earlier and he sent a small pulse of disappointment to Castiel.   

Castiel's lips twitched up in response before he turned to Sam.  He dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder and held it out to the younger Winchester.  "I am Castiel.  You are welcome in my home for as long as Dean is." 

Sam looked down at Castiel's hand for a moment before he took it in his own.  His smile was still wary, but not unfriendly, and Dean honestly couldn’t blame him for his reserve.  "Thank you." 

They walked together back into the house.  Dean paused to make sure Sam didn't have any problems getting through the barrier.  Other than a shiver as he walked through it, Sam didn't seem to notice anything.  Dean wasn't sure if that proved he wasn't a witch or not.  After all, he couldn't tell the barrier was there either, but now that he was more attuned to Castiel's power, he thought he felt it whenever he passed through it. 

Sam came to a halt just inside the barrier and frowned at the porch where Gabriel was standing, waiting for them.  He wouldn't have seen the other witch until he was within the yard.  "What the hell?" he muttered. 

"Barrier spell," Dean said cheerfully.  He slapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, encouraging him to keep walking.  "Keeps people from seeing inside the yard." 

Sam kept his eyes glued on Gabriel as they approached the porch.  "Huh," was his only response. 

Gabriel was either still working on the same piece of candy, or had a new one.  He was using his fingers to twirl the stick between his lips, and he was looking at Sam almost hungrily.  With a slurping pop, he pulled the sucker out and pointed it at Sam, but his question was directed at Dean.  "This is your brother?" 

Dean narrowed his eyes at the shorter man.  Something about the way he was looking at Sam rubbed him the wrong way.  But then again, everything about Gabriel usually rubbed Dean the wrong way.  "Yeah, so?" 

Golden eyes flicked toward Dean, and they crinkled with his amusement.  "Interesting genes in your family, Dean-o.  Very interesting." 

This time Dean stepped between Gabriel and Sam.  "He's not a Familiar." 

"No," Gabriel said in a low voice, his tone completely serious.  "But he _is_ a witch." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam stiffen.  "I'm a what, now?" 

Before the conversation could go any further, Castiel stepped in again, easily smoothing over the tension.  "We'll explain, of course.  But it's going to be a rather long conversation, and it would be best done inside where it's cool."  He risked reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers against Sam's sleeve.  He didn't flinch or frown when Sam jerked away.  "I'll make a pizza.  I make a great tomato basil pizza with ingredients from my own garden." 

Seeing Sam's suspicious frown, Dean cut in.  "It's pretty damn good, Sammy.  Even I like it." 

Sam wrinkled his nose, still not trusting Castiel.  But he nodded stiffly and gestured for them to go inside.  As he followed Dean on his heels he leaned close.  "Are you sure he's not putting something in the food?" 

Dean's kneejerk reaction was to scoff, but then again, Castiel _had_ fed him before offering his deal.   _Have you been putting stuff in my food?_ He asked Castiel through their link. 

Humor flooded back at him along with Castiel's answer.   _Only fresh vegetables and herbs.  Nothing magical, and nothing that would influence your decisions._ There was a pause before a teasing _unless you count your decisions to have second helpings and overstuff yourself._   

The neat thing about this mind talking, Dean decided, was his ability to sense the truth in Castiel’s words.  The weird thing about the mind talking was how much they were doing it.  They had fallen into the silent form of communication easily, despite having only done it a few times before.  Dean had to admit, it was rather convenient, if a little unnerving exactly how much he liked it.   

As he followed Sam up the steps and into the house, he carefully raised his barriers.  Not completely, because he couldn’t quite give up the connection altogether, but enough that he hoped Castiel wouldn’t notice how unsettled he had become over the other man’s presence in his head. 

Castiel noticed, casting Dean a curious look, complete with the familiar head tilt.  Dean smiled at him tightly, but reached out and brushed his fingers over Castiel’s arm before passing him and moving further into the house.  Tension leaked out of Castiel’s body and emotions at the small touch. 

Sam stood awkwardly in the open space in the dining nook, waiting for Dean and Castiel.  Gabriel wasn’t paying attention to them though.  He was tapping a staccato pattern on the tiny table, and muttering under his breath.  What few words Dean caught didn’t sound like English, and his suspicion that Gabriel was casting a spell was confirmed when he felt a pulse of power just before the table grew larger by almost a foot.   

Ignoring Sam’s surprised inhale, Gabriel then tapped out a similar pattern on one of the chairs.  A snap of his fingers, and another pulse of power, and there was a fourth chair at the newly resized table.   

Dean and Castiel spoke at the same time.  “Show off.” 

Sam’s eyes, wide and scandalized, shot to Dean, who just shrugged at him, and smiled a little.   

Gabriel swung out the new chair, and swept a hand toward it in invitation, waggling his eyebrows suggestively when Sam’s attention swung back to him.  “Make yourself comfortable, Sam.  We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 

\----

 

It had taken Jo a while to convince Sam that Dean was in trouble.  He'd been surprised to find out that Dean hadn't immediately killed the witch, since his normal M.O. was shoot, stab, and decapitate first, ask questions later.  He'd been most interested in hearing that Dean might have finally found a way to break the curse Sam had cast on him when they were kids.  Especially since he'd been researching ways to break it himself for a decade.  And his research skills were nothing to be scoffed at.   

But an experienced witch?  It was probably nothing to them.  Yeah, it made him a little nervous that Dean had made a deal with the witch... no scratch that.  It made him pretty damn apprehensive.  And even though he'd brushed off Jo's first call, by the the third time they talked about it, he wasn't sleeping very well at night because he was already planning on what he would need to do to get Dean free of this witch.   

He'd wanted to leave right then and there, but he still trusted Dean to be able to take care of himself.  So Sam had done what he needed to put his schooling on hold.  He had no idea how long he would be gone, or what kind of damage control would need to be done for Dean.  It had been the most logical thing to take the rest of the semester off.  His scholarship allowed for it since his grade were top notch, and his professors all loved him so they were understanding that he needed to take care of some Family Business for a few months.   

Jess had been less than thrilled with his decision to leave.  They were only friends because he still hadn't built up the courage to ask her out on a real date, and he had a feeling that he may be ruining his chances with her.  He regretted that, but if Dean needed him, Sam wasn't going to let anything stop him from being there for his brother. 

He owed Dean. 

Which is why he now found himself standing in the cozy kitchen of a small house in a completely normal suburb in Utah of all places - seriously, people equated the place with strict religion, not the occult - being invited to sit in a chair that looked perfectly ordinary, except that Sam had watched it materialize out of thin air.  He considered the chair for a moment, wondering if this was going to be some prank to land him in a heap on his ass.  The twinkle in the shorter man's golden eyes made him wary, but at the same time he wasn't about to let the guy intimidate him.   

He may be a witch, but Sam was a Hunter.  He'd faced down plenty of monsters that were a lot harder to kill than a witch.  Still, he glanced at Dean before taking the chair.  His brother moved to one of the other chairs at the table and plopped down in it.  He seemed unconcerned despite the fact that he seemed to radiate dislike for the golden eyed man.   

"Sammy this is Gabriel.  He's a pain in the ass, but he's-" Dean paused, casting a glare at the man in question.  "Tolerable." 

Sam took that as his cue, and sat down in the chair.  It was solid beneath him, and he relaxed minutely.  "Thanks," he murmured.   

Gabriel grinned widely and took the seat next to him.  Castiel nodded at them all approvingly and then went to work in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and humming quietly to himself.  He seemed completely at ease with two Hunters at his back.  Sam wasn't sure if that was because Castiel trusted Dean and by extension, Sam as well, or if it was because he and Gabriel were too powerful to fear two measly Hunters.  The idea that it was the latter made him nervous, but seeing Dean relaxed and looking completely at home in Castiel's kitchen tempered it somewhat. 

That's when he really looked at his brother, and noticed.... "Dude, are those hickies?" 

Dean startled, then looked down at himself.  There was a mark on his chest and another low on his stomach.  Sam had to stifle a laugh when Dean's whole body flushed with embarrassment.   

"Dammit," Dean grumbled before getting up and leaving the kitchen.   

Gabriel smirked at Castiel, which Sam found odd.  "Good job, bro." 

"Don't tease him about it, or I'll let him bite you the next time he wants to," Castiel said calmly as he began slicing tomatoes. 

"He wasn't going to bite me."  Gabriel rolled his eyes, ending the motion with a look at Sam, as if he were including him in mocking Castiel. 

Castiel paused and looked over his shoulder.  His expression was completely serious when he spoke.  "Yes, Gabriel.  He was." 

Sam, completely lost in the strange conversation, couldn't help himself from asking, "Why would Dean want to bite you?" He assumed Dean must have been shifted, otherwise he would have used his fists. 

"Because Gabe's an asshole," Dean grumbled as he re-entered the room, tugging the hem of a t-shirt in place over his hips.  He plopped back down in the chair, looking daggers at Gabriel. 

"Or maybe because I saw your-" 

"Gabriel!" Castiel had turned and was pointing his knife at his brother.  He narrowed his eyes at the other man.  "Antarctica, I swear to the gods." 

Sam's eyebrows went up.  He didn't know why Antarctica was significant, but the threat was real if Castiel's glare and stiff shoulders were any indication.  Gabriel's grin didn't slip in the slightest, but he held up both hands in a sign of surrender and leaned back in his chair.  Castiel's sharp gaze stayed on him for a moment more before he went back to preparing dinner. 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and smirked at Gabriel.  And that was when Sam was struck with how comfortable all three of them were together.  It was obvious that Gabriel teased Dean just to get a rise out of him, and it was eerily similar to how Dean had always teased Sam.  And Dean and Castiel seemed to have an aura of awareness about them.  They had their backs to each other at the moment, but Sam knew without a doubt that they were in sync with each other.  In fact, now that he looked closer, they seemed to be breathing in time with each other. 

That was really fucking weird. 

He cleared his throat, glancing between the three men.  He didn’t want to know what was going on.  Not yet.  He had something more important to address since rescuing Dean didn’t seem to be an imminent necessity.  "So, uh... what was all that about me being a witch?" 

Dean's eyes narrowed at Gabriel.  "Yeah, what the hell?" 

"Dude," Gabriel emphasized the word as if he were making fun of Dean.  "Can't you sense it?" 

Dean raised an eyebrow at him for a moment, then turned to look at his brother.  He cocked his head to the side and his eyes glazed over a bit.  Sam squirmed under the attention.  He didn't understand why Dean should be able to sense whether Sam was a witch or not (And seriously, what the hell? He was NOT a witch.), but he could tell that Dean was looking for something even though his eyes were unfocused.  After a moment though, he focused again and lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  "I don't, man." 

Castiel spoke from where he was sliding a pizza stone out of the oven.  "It is possible that you aren't aware of his power because you're so close.  You no longer seem to react to my power the way you did when you first arrived.  I assume it is because you have become used to my presence." 

Sam’s head was spinning, trying to keep up with a conversation that felt like it was happening in a whole different language.  "Dean, what is he talking about?" 

His brother squirmed in his seat, and wouldn't meet his eye.  "I, uh... can sense witches." 

Sam straightened in his chair and leaned over the table.  "What?  How come you never told me that?" 

Dean slanted a self-conscious look at him from below his lashes, then dropped his eyes back to the surface of the table.  "'Cuz it's weird?" 

"Dean, you change into an animal," Sam pointed out.  Honestly, it was a little stupid for Dean to have kept this from him.  But he was more irritated than surprised.  Dean never was really forthcoming about things.  He was practically allergic to talking about anything besides women and cars. 

Which is why those damn hickies and the cryptic conversation between Gabriel and Castiel was so odd.  It all seemed to be adding up to Dean sleeping with- 

No.  No way.  Dean was straighter than a damn arrow. 

Although he did have an unhealthy obsession with Dr. Sexy, Bruce Willis, and Harrison Ford... 

 _No_.  He wasn't even going to think about it.   

He caught Castiel watching him from next to the stove.  One side of his mouth quirked up and there was so much _knowing_ in his expression that Sam wanted to squirm.  It was almost as if Castiel could hear what was going on in his head.  Having met a few psychics, it wouldn't surprise him in the least.  He narrowed his eyes at Castiel and projected the thought _stay out_ as loud as he could. 

Castiel and Dean both flinched at the same time.  Dean's hand came up to his temple and he shook his head a little.  Castiel stepped up behind him and ran his fingers through the short hair at the back of Dean's neck, and to Sam's utter surprise, Dean leaned back into the touch.   

 _Holy shit,_ he thought.   _Maybe they_ are _lovers!_  

"I can't read your mind, Sam," Castiel said softly, his dark blue eyes conveying nothing but honesty.  "I'm an empath, not a psychic.  But if you yell that loudly, I can hear it, even if I can't make out the words." 

Dean twisted in his seat to look up at Castiel, then turned back to Sam.  "That was you?" 

Gabriel snorted.  "Psychics and empaths.  You all suck." 

He sounded so petulant, it was obvious he was jealous.  The realization made a laugh bubble up in Sam's throat.  He cut it off quickly when Gabriel glared at him.  He cleared his throat and gave him a tentative smile.  "Yeah, I hear you, man.  Psychics creep me out."  Ignoring the fact that he really liked the way the skin around Gabriel's eyes crinkled when he returned Sam's smile, he turned back to Dean.  "And how did you hear anything?  You're not psychic." 

Dean, eyes wide in a distinct deer-in-the-headlights expression, opened his mouth then shut it.  He glanced back at Castiel again, as if looking for help.  Castiel only lifted his eyebrows at Dean, and Sam could almost swear they were talking to each other.   

Gabriel leaned forward across the table, catching everyone’s attention with the movement.  His eyes twinkled with mischief.  “Oh man, let me tell him.”   

At this point, Sam didn’t care who did all the talking, as long as he got some damn answers.

 

\-----

 

This time when the phone rang, Jo wasn’t fast enough to get to it before her mother did.  She slid to a stop a few feet from Ellen, smiling innocently when the older woman gave her a suspicious glare.  Grinding her teeth a little, Jo redirected to the bar and began rearranging glasses in an attempt to look busy while she eavesdropped. 

Ellen’s eyes were still narrowed at Jo, but she pressed the phone up to her ear and sounded friendly when she answered.  “You’ve got the Roadhouse.”  A smile bloomed across her features, making her look younger.  “Oh, hey Sam.  How’s it going?” 

Jo’s ears practically twitched as she strained to listen harder. 

Something Sam said made Ellen chuckle softly.  “Yeah, that’s why I skipped the whole college thing and went right to the hard part of life.”  She nodded, and they spoke for a few more minutes, while Jo did her best not to rip the phone out of her hands and demand that Sam tell her what was going on with Dean.  After what seemed like forever she finally said what Jo had been waiting to here.  “Yeah, Jo’s here.  Gimme a minute.” 

Jo didn’t even wait for Ellen to call her name.  She closed the space between them and took the phone.  She gave Ellen an overly wide smile, and nearly kicked herself when that just made her mother look even more suspicious.  “Thanks, mom.” 

Thankfully, Ellen’s attention was taken by some patrons on the other side of the bar, and Jo spun around to keep her conversation as private as possible.  “Sam?” she hissed into the receiver.  “Tell me what’s going on.  Now.” 

“Calm down, Jo.  Jesus,” Sam said with a tone that told her he was probably rolling his eyes at her. 

She ignored the comment.  “Are you there yet?  Have you found Dean?” 

Sam sighed, the sound slightly distorted by static.  “Yeah, I found him.” 

Jo sagged slightly in relief.  “Great.  So when are you guys coming home?”  There was a moment of silence, and Jo tensed right back up.  “Sam?” 

“We’re going to be staying here for a little while.” 

This time it was Jo’s turn to be silent as she tried to assimilate what she’d just heard.  “I’m sorry?” she said after a moment. 

“Look,” Sam said in his placate-the-little-girl voice that always made her want to punch him.  “I promise I’m not discounting your concerns, but I also don’t think Dean’s in any danger.  And I’m going to stick around for a little while too.  I, uh… think I can learn a few things from these guys.” 

Jo’s fingers tightened around the plastic phone until her knuckles ached.  “Sam… I think that’s a bad idea.” 

“Jo, I swear, everything is fine.  And Dean and I are together… we’ll watch out for each other like we always do.” 

She nodded, although Sam couldn’t see it.  “Okay.  I guess.” 

Sam let out a relieved breath.  He’d probably been expecting more of an argument.  “Alright, I’m gonna let you get back to what you’re doing.  Talk to you later, Jo.” 

“Bye, Sam.” 

After she’d hung up the phone, she stared at it, chewing at her thumbnail as she thought.  Both Dean and Sam were telling her that everything was okay, but she couldn’t shake the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.  There was something not right going on, and she couldn’t just let them fend for themselves.  While she worried about them on any hunt they went on, this was different, even if she couldn’t say why.   

She may have had a huge crush on Dean when she was younger, but the truth was, he was really a brother to her.  Sam, too.  And family protected each other, right?  That’s one thing she’d definitely learned from the Winchester men.  The boys had always treated her like an honorary Winchester.  So she was going to act like one and protect them. 

She just had to figure out how.


	13. New Beginnings

The back of Dean's neck prickled with the weight of Sam's stare, but he ignored it as he pulled out the hide-a-bed and began arranging pillows on it.  He fussed with the sheets for as long as he could without it looking like he was avoiding Sam, and then fussed a little more because fuck it, he _was_ avoiding him.   

Sam seemed to have taken the news that he was a natural born witch really well, which Dean assumed meant that he just didn't believe it.  But Sam had also been eyeing Dean in that way that said he had a million questions, and he was sure that he wasn't going to like a single one of them.  He could almost guess what they were. 

_What makes you think you can trust them?  What the hell is going on between you and 'Cas'?  Why do you put up with Gabriel's shit?_  

That last one was a question Dean asked himself whenever the elder witch was around, so he might be projecting it.  Sam didn't seem to mind Gabriel, but then again he'd always been a helluva lot more patient with people than Dean was.  At least Gabriel wasn’t staying with them, because Dean had gotten pretty sick of the way he was hovering over Sam the whole night. 

Gabriel seemed the most excited about Sam’s abilities and Dean had no idea why.  It made him nervous to say the least.  But at least Gabriel had fucked off early, with an excuse that he needed his beauty sleep.  That last comment was directed at Sam with a salacious wink.  Sam had actually laughed, and it was a good thing Gabriel had left then, because Dean had been inches from throttling him. 

Finally deciding that he couldn’t procrastinate any longer he straightened, facing his brother and gesturing to the bed.  "It's actually pretty comfortable." 

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Dean braced himself for the barrage of questions.  Instead of questions, Sam just shrugged and bent down to take his shoes off.  "It can't be worse than some of the motel beds I've slept in over the years." 

Dean blinked, then narrowed his eyes at his brother who was starting to pull a pair of pajamas out of his bag as if nothing were out of the ordinary.  "Yeah, that's true," he grunted. 

Sam changed in silence, then crawled onto the mattress.  He leaned back and crossed his fingers behind his head.  He stared up at the ceiling, his expression thoughtful.  "Dinner was pretty good," he said after a moment.  "Cas is a really good cook." 

Cas was a fan-fucking-tastic cook, and Dean almost opened his mouth to say so.  Instead, he pressed his lips together and glared at his brother.  Sam didn't even look at him.  After a moment, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the stairs.  "I'm going to grab a shower before I come to bed."  He didn't want to wash Castiel's scent away, but he wasn't going to share a bed with his brother while still smelling like sex. 

Sam turned his head and gave Dean a curious look.  "You're not sleeping with Castiel?" 

And there it was.  "No!" Dean barked, then scowled.  "Why would you think that?" 

Sam's lips turned up in a smirk, and Dean knew he'd fucked up.  "So you're banging him, but not actually sleeping with him?  I kinda got the impression that you two were closer than that." 

"You know what?" The question was punctuated with a finger pointed at his brother's smug face.  "I'm not talking about it." 

Sam's eyes widened with mock sincerity and he nodded.  "Sure, Dean.  Whatever, man." 

_Fuck_.  Dean narrowed his eyes again, waiting for Sam to break his poker face and laugh.  But after a moment, Dean shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and grabbed his bag, taking it with him upstairs to the bathroom.  

He stopped at the top of the stairs and eyed Castiel's open bedroom door.  He could see the other man puttering around.  Castiel hadn't changed into his pajamas yet, but he was about to.  He'd just taken a pair of soft pants out of his drawer and thrown it on the foot of his bed, which was still rumpled from their earlier activities. 

It made him feel uncomfortably pervy to watch Castiel pull his shirt off over his head and toss it into a basket in the corner of the room, but Dean couldn't move.  His feet were glued to the floorboards, and his eyes were drawn to the lean muscles flexing under Castiel's skin.  He'd been surprised to find that Castiel was built so well.  Dean didn't think he did anything more strenuous than weeding his garden, but there was definition in every line of his body, and there was no denying that he was physically strong.  Not when he'd manhandled Dean so well earlier. 

"You're welcome to come in, Dean," Castiel said softly without looking toward the door.   

It probably should have disturbed him more that Castiel had caught him, but Dean figured Castiel was just as aware of his proximity as Dean was of him.  Neither of them had put their barriers back up fully, and Dean could feel Castiel's presence.  If someone blindfolded him and spun him around, he would still be able to unerringly point in the other man's direction.  It was weird, but at the same time he kinda liked it.   

"I was just about to take a shower."  Despite his words, Dean's feet still carried him a few steps into Castiel's room. 

"That's a good idea," Castiel murmured, finally looking up at Dean.  He smiled slightly, the skin around his eyes crinkling.  There was a slight glow in his irises, which Dean had decided weeks ago that he really liked.  "I should probably do the same." 

Dean licked his lips.  They'd already had sex several times, and his body was far too tired to do more than twitch with interest.  Inviting Castiel to share the shower with him would not be for sexual gratification.  But he still wanted him to.  His voice dropped an octave when he spoke.  "We could save some hot water, and share.  You know… since we already showered this morning.  Waste not, want not, or whatever." 

There was that damn head tilt.  The one that always made Dean's stomach do a weird little flip.  That and the glowy-eye thing were going to kill him.  Castiel's smile widened enough to show his teeth.  "I would enjoy that." 

A smile pulled at Dean's lips, and he didn't bother to try it.  He tilted his head in the direction of the door.  "Well come on then." 

As Castiel followed him into the bathroom and they started to disrobe, Dean tried not to think about the fact that his little brother was downstairs while Dean and Cas were about to get naked together.  Again.  He'd come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Castiel despite the junk in his pants (or because of it, if he was going to be honest with himself, which he was _not_ ), but what would Sammy think?   

Some of what was going on in his head must have drifted through his link with Castiel.  He ran a comforting hand down Dean's spine as they stepped under the water together and Dean pulled the shower curtain shut.  "Are you worried that your brother will not be pleased with our relationship?" 

Dean shot a sideways glance at Castiel as he reached for the bar of soap.  He didn't even bother trying to bluff his way out of the conversation, even though he didn't want to have it.  Castiel would know.  And he didn’t bother trying to deny that they were in a relationship.  It was too late for that.  "Kinda," he answered gruffly as he built up suds between his palms.  "I mean... he's pretty open minded.  But..." 

When he trailed off, Castiel took the soap from him.  "But you won't know for sure how he feels about it until you talk to him." 

Dean nodded at his reasoning.  He began rubbing the soap over his skin, watching as Castiel did the same.  The sight was beautiful, but his body still wasn't reacting with arousal.  "Yeah, but then I'd have to actually, you know... talk about it." 

Castiel slanted an amused glance.  "I understand." 

It would have been a perfect time for Castiel to bring up Dean's reluctance to talk about whatever this was between them.  Especially since he had Dean naked and at his mercy.  But all he did was grab the showerhead and start rinsing them both off.  Again, it wasn't sexual, even when the spray was directed in interesting places.  Even when Castiel slipped his fingers between Dean's thighs and brushed against sensitive flesh.  "Are you alright?" He asked softly.  "We got a little rough." 

Dean leaned into the other man’s chest and rubbed his cheek against Castiel's.  Their stubble caught against each other, and he smiled at the unfamiliar sensation.  "A little sore," he admitted. 

"I can heal it if you need me to," Castiel murmured against his ear. 

Letting his head drop to rest on Castiel's shoulder, to hide the flush in his cheeks, Dean shrugged.  Sitting was a bit uncomfortable, but at the same time, he liked the reminder of what they'd done.  "I'm fine." 

Soft lips pressed against the side of his neck.  "Alright Dean.  But don't hesitate to ask if you need me." 

There was more than one way to take that offer, and Dean lifted his head to look down at the other man.  Castiel stared back at him with calm blue eyes.  The link between them was quiet, although full of Cas' presence.  It was without any conscious thought that Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him into a soft kiss.   

Castiel's arms came up around his waist, resting there lightly, but still holding him close.  And in that moment, Dean knew that he didn't want to give this up.  The little ball of golden light was still locked away inside him because he was scared to share it just yet, but for the first time he considered what it would be like to stay with Castiel when their deal was over.   

Would Castiel want him to, though?  He could ask.  He could open up that line of conversation that he'd been avoiding all day.  Or he could poke around the thin barriers Castiel held between them, and see if he could glean the answer there.  But he wasn't ready to rock the little pocket of peace that he'd found himself in. 

Besides, staying with Castiel would mean uprooting his entire life.  He was a Hunter, and by nature he was nomadic.  He wasn't sure he was quite ready to put that aside and stay in one place long term.   

There was also his curse to consider.  Castiel was going to break it for him, and that would probably break their link.  Dean thought he would still be happy without it, but he could admit in the privacy of his own mind (what was still kept behind the barriers, that is) that he would miss it when it was gone.  There was also the question of whether Castiel would still want him around if he wasn't a Familiar.   

The thought of Castiel not wanting him or needing him anymore sent a jolt of pain through his chest, and he closed his barriers a little tighter to hide it.  Unfortunately, Castiel noticed. 

"Dean?" The name was whispered against his neck, more felt than heard.  "I value your privacy, and I don't want you to think that I'm trying to force you to share yourself with me..." he trailed off, and his arms tightened.  "But it makes me nervous when you close yourself off with no warning like that." 

"You shouldn't have taught me how to then," Dean deflected lightly. 

Castiel sighed and pulled back until he could look up at Dean.  He reached up and pushed wet hair off Dean's forehead in a surprisingly tender gesture.  "Yes, I should have.  In fact, I should have done it immediately.  It was a failing on my part that I did not give you better tools to protect yourself." 

Dean lifted a sardonic brow.  "From you?" 

"From me, or from anyone with sufficient mental abilities." He frowned.  "It is my duty to train people with their powers.  Which is why I'm glad Sam has agreed to stay with us.  He needs guidance." 

Dean frowned at the reminder of the reason Sam was still there.  Castiel and Gabriel had ganged up on him, eventually convincing him that he had untapped powers.  It was obvious that Sam was uncomfortable with the idea.  Hell, Dean was uncomfortable with it.  With the idea that his little brother could be a supernatural creature with the power to create or destroy on a whim.  He'd hunted so many witches, and he had seen what could become of a witch who thirsted for more power than they had naturally inside of them. 

Even Castiel had warned Sam of the dangers.  Dean got the impression as he spoke to Sam that he was remembering something personal when he'd talked of good witches turning bad because of good intentions.  There was a reason why Hunters didn't know about white witches.  There were very few of them. 

As nervous as it made Dean to think of Sammy turning into something evil, he also knew that his little brother was strong.  If anyone could resist temptation, it was Sam Winchester.  After all, he ate salads on purpose when there were cheeseburgers available. 

And he would have Castiel training him.  Dean wasn't quite as sure about Gabriel, but he had faith in Cas.  

"Yeah," he murmured.  "I'm glad he's here too." 

Castiel smiled and ran his hands through Dean's hair again before changing the subject.  "You're planning on sleeping downstairs?" 

Dean lifted an eyebrow at the question.  Despite the hours of mind blowing (literally) sex, he hadn't expected anything more from Castiel.  "Where else would I sleep?" 

Blue eyes slipped away, and Dean would swear Castiel looked shy in that moment.  "As large as Sam is, he would be far more comfortable in that bed by himself."  He still wouldn't look at Dean, and there was a distinct buzz of something almost fearful in their link.  "And there is adequate room for both of us in my bed." 

He could back out right now, and keep their relationship purely sexual.  Purely part of their arrangement.  They could fuck some more, but after Solstice, Dean would walk away knowing that he'd made a good friend who just happened to fuck like a porn star.  Or he could accept the invitation, and whatever else Castiel was willing to give him. 

That little ball of golden light, hidden deep inside of him pulsed with his heartbeat.  

A tendril of disappointment wended through the link between them as Dean's silence continued, and Castiel began to pull out of Dean's arms.  "The water is getting cold.  We should-" 

Dean jerked Castiel back against him, and smiled at his wide-eyed shock.  "Sam is going to be hell to live with." 

"Why?" Castiel's eyes narrowed with confusion. 

"C'mon, Cas.  You have a brother.  Didn't he ever give you shit about the people you liked?" 

Castiel smiled so wide that his nose wrinkled in a way that was far too endearing.  It was almost impossible to remember that this was a man who wielded enough power to kill with a thought.  "Do you like me, Dean?" 

"Jesus, Cas."  Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to hide his own smile.  "What are you, twelve?" 

"Hardly," Castiel replied dryly.  "And if you are accusing me of acting like an adolescent, I would like to remind you that I have far more experience with relationships than you ever will." 

Curiosity almost made Dean ask for details, but he decided he was much better off not knowing.  He shrugged dismissively, but a playful smile twitched around the corners of his mouth.  "Okay, you've got me there." 

"So?" 

"So what?" Dean's voice was light and teasing as he hedged around the question.  Castiel's impatient scowl was totally worth it. 

"Fine, Dean.  If you don't want to answer, I won't push, but-" 

Dean cut him off with a tight squeeze of his arms, causing Castiel to huff out his breath.  "Chill, Cas.  I'm just giving you a hard time."  He loosened his hold, and cleared his throat.  He could feel the heat rising his cheeks, and it was an effort to get the words out.   "Yeah, I like you." 

Castiel's glare faded into something softer.  Something began to trickle through the link.  It was warm and bright, and reminded Dean a little of the piece of himself he was still keeping hidden.  The heat of it felt like sunshine on his skin, the scent of wildflowers and herbs, and the gentle brush of a breeze all at once.  "I like you too, Dean." 

Dean stared down at him in wonder.  Could that warm feeling be what he thought it was?  He was not ready to find out, but he _was_ ready to end the touchy feely moment. He could only handle so much at a time and he'd hit his daily quota.  He covered his sudden discomfort with a cocky grin.  "Does this mean we're going to the dance? If so, you're wearing the prom dress. I don't think I could pull off the look." 

Castiel rolled his eyes and dropped one hand from Dean's waist to smack his ass lightly.  "Maybe I should make you sleep on the floor." His words were gruff, but he was still smiling.  "Come on, let's get out. The water is cold."

 

\-----

 

Sam lay in the dark after Dean left, staring at the ceiling. He heard the creak of Dean's footsteps on the stairs. He heard them stop, and then a few minutes later two distinct sets continue on toward what he assumed was the bathroom. 

He couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea of _Dean and Cas._  But if Dean was happy, Sam wouldn't judge.  He had no room to since he was open to relationships with men as well.   

He was honestly more concerned with the fact that Castiel was a witch, than the fact that he was a man.  Dean hated all monsters and supernatural beings, but he really had an issue with witches.  Sam thought it might have something to do with his curse, although he knew Dean would deny it since he didn't want Sam to feel guilty. 

The guilt was there though. It would sometimes hide in the back of his mind for weeks, even months. Then a random comment or thought would remind him and he would feel crushed under its weight again.   

Just thinking about it now made a tight, sick feeling curl through his stomach.  All he wanted was to run to the nearest library and start researching again.  Which would be stupid, since the likelihood of finding a book on the arcane in a public library in Utah was slim to none.  He had his laptop, but the internet had been no help for the last ten years, so that was a dead end he didn't feel like pursuing. 

With a sigh, he rolled off the bed and padded barefoot to the door at the back of the living room that led to the back yard.  It wasn't very late, just past dark really, so he wasn't even tired.  In fact, he suspected the only reason Dean had suggested they call it a night was so he could get rid of Gabriel.   

That was a shame, he thought as he walked out onto the back patio, the cement cool under his feet.  Of the two witches, Sam found Gabriel the most interesting.  Castiel seemed pretty cool.  He was quiet, and spoke kindly.  And he poked fun at Dean with dry words that could easily be misconstrued as serious instead of teasing.   

But Gabriel was brash, and obnoxious, and engaging.  And even though both brothers had offered to teach Sam to use the magic they claimed he had within himself, Sam found himself hoping to spend most of his time with Gabriel.   

He stepped down onto the grass, and curled his bare toes in it.  Staring up at the sky where just a few stars were starting to come out of the dark background, he thought about everything he had learned today.  He would be lying if he said it didn't make him nervous to find out he had power.  His whole life he had been raised in the Hunter lifestyle, and one very prominent lesson he'd learned was that witches were bad, dangerous, and not to be trusted.   

But on the other hand, magic was a thing he'd been raised around.  His mother had been adept at casting spells, and she had let him watch her cast minor ones when Dad wasn't around to say anything about it.  She used to do little things around the house, like casting a spell over the linen closet to keep things fresh, or on windless days, she would whisper a cantrip to keep the wind chimes on the back porch tinkling.  Little touches of magic had always surrounded them, but no one thought anything of it.  Mom wasn't a witch, though. 

Was she? 

He wished she were still alive to ask.  He wished like hell that he'd known someone like Castiel who could have healed her when she'd gotten sick.   

He sighed and sat down in the grass, leaning back on his palms.  Maybe Mary had been a white witch and just hadn't known it.  Like him.  From what Castiel and Gabriel had said, people with inborn power either never knew, or they turned to black magic because they didn’t know there was any other option since witchcraft has been portrayed as a dark art for centuries.   

He'd been young when Mary had passed away.  But he knew... _knew_ that she would never have turned to black magic.   

"Those must be some seriously deep thoughts you're thinking." 

Sam jumped at the sound of Gabriel's voice, and gawked at the older man when he plopped down on the grass next to him.  "I thought you'd left." 

Gabriel winked at him.  "I came back." 

"Why?" 

"I figured you might be having an identity crisis, and I thought I'd come check on you."  Gabriel started picking blades of grass and throwing them out into the darkness.  "I've got a lot of experience talking young witches through the identity crisis."   

Sam turned back to watch the sky.  "I wouldn't say I'm having a crisis, but I am still trying take it all in.  And I have so many questions." 

"Well I'm here for that too."  Gabriel stopped abusing the lawn and gestured at the house, bringing Sam's attention around to the second floor window, glowing with soft yellow light.  "Those two are so wrapped up in each other, you won't get as much attention from Cassie as you need." 

As he said that, Sam saw the silhouette of two men pass in front of the window.  It was hard to tell from this angle, but he was pretty sure they were wrapped around each other.  He jerked his head forward and gave an exaggerated shudder.  "Ugh.  I didn't need to see that." 

"Yeah, but now you have blackmail material," Gabriel said with a cheeky grin, that was just barely visible in the gathering dark. 

Sam barked out a laugh, and shook his head.  "Yeah, I'll probably have to use that." 

They settled into a companionable silence, Sam watching the stars come out, and Gabriel picking at the grass again.  Sam thought he should probably feel less relaxed than he did in the presence of a man who wasn't just a powerful witch, but was also incredibly old.  He rolled his head on his shoulder and looked over at Gabriel. 

"So you've helped a lot of witches through their growing pains?" He asked after a moment. 

Gabriel shrugged with one shoulder, then dug into his pocket to pull out a sucker.  He held it out in invitation, and when Sam took it, he pulled out another, unwrapped it, and popped it in his own mouth before he answered.  "It's been a long time since I've had an apprentice, but yes, I've had a few.  I enjoy teaching." 

Sam put his own sucker in his mouth, pleased when sweet watermelon flavor spread across his tongue.  He tucked the candy in his cheek and spoke around the stick.  "Do you still keep in touch with your students?" 

Gabriel was quiet for a long moment.  When he spoke, the normal playful tone was dimmed with regret.  "Cassie is the only one left." 

"The others went dark side?" Sam felt a little nervous about that.  If he was going to pursue this, he wanted to know that he wasn't going to turn into the kind of creature that his family hunted. 

"Only one," Gabriel said softly.  "The rest have passed away.  Either from old age because their powers didn't sustain their lives as long as mine and Castiel's, or from-" he paused and gave Sam a significant look.  His eyes seemed to glow gold when he spoke.  "Hunters." 

Sam cringed.  "Sorry." 

Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing lightly.  "Don't worry about it kiddo.  You're far too young to have come across any of my apprentices.  Other than Kali, the last one died more than a century ago." 

Trying to wrap his head around Gabriel's age gave Sam a headache, so he passed that conversation over for another day.  "Is Kali...?" He trailed off, not sure if asking what he had in mind would be insensitive. 

"My ex," Gabriel said with forced joviality.  "Hot as coal, with a temper like dynamite, and absolutely terrifying." He reached up and swirled the sucker around in his mouth for a moment before pulling it out and looking at it as if it were a glass of fine wine rather than a Dum Dum.  "She was also not content with her gifts as they were.  She made a deal with a demon hundreds of years ago." 

He sounded sad, and Sam shifted in the grass, unsure how to proceed.  "I'm sorry," he finally said lamely. 

"Wow, that got way too serious," Gabriel answered cheerfully.  "Let's talk about something more fun." He popped his sucker back in his mouth and wagged his eyebrows suggestively.  "What's your favorite position?" 

Sam laughed again.  He had no problem playing along with this game.  "Reverse cowgirl." 

"Oh yeah?" Gabriel's sucker nearly fell out of his mouth.  "How about Reverse cowboy?" 

Sam responded with a sly smile.  He swirled his sucker around in his mouth, curling his tongue around it suggestively.  "I guess it depends on who's on top." 

Gabriel's eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed.  "Oh man, we're going to have some fun.  Be my apprentice.  Castiel has absolutely no sense of humor, and he'll bore you to tears when he's not neglecting you because he's banging your brother." 

Sam liked Castiel's subtle humor, but he really liked Gabriel and he was probably right about his attention being wrapped up in Dean.  Deciding to become an apprentice to a witch was no longer as daunting as it had been an hour ago.  "Alright," he agreed simply.   

Gabriel pumped a fist in victory.  He grinned at Sam, his teeth very white in the dark.  "So… wanna learn how to do an animal transmutation spell the right way?" 


	14. Salad Is Gross Anyway

Waking up in Castiel’s bed had not been the plan, but as Dean rolled over in the soft sheets and buried his face among the pillows, he decided he didn’t mind so much.  He stretched out on his belly and breathed in the scent of lavender, sex, and Castiel.  The movement caused a twinge in thoroughly used muscles, and he smiled at the memory of riding Castiel’s hips in the middle of the night when they’d woken up horny again. 

“Yippee-kay-yay motherfucker,” he mumbled into the pillow. 

When there was no response, he opened his eyes and lifted his head to look around.  He was alone in the bed, which he shouldn’t find surprising since the sun was already up and they had gone to bed a little bit early the night before.  He pushed down the thought that he might have been hoping for a good morning kiss, and dropped his face back into the pillow. 

_I’m sorry I didn’t wake you.  You looked like you needed the rest._  

Castiel’s voice in his head was accompanied by a soft curl of affection, and Dean wrapped himself around that feeling.   _Are we going to just start talking like this all the time now?_  He hoped that the words came through as teasing, and that he was doing a good job blocking the slight pang of apprehension he felt over how much he enjoyed the other man’s mental touch. 

_It is rather convenient when we’re not in the same room._  There was humor in the thought, and Dean smiled in response.   _But maybe not always.  I like hearing your voice._  

Dean snorted into the pillow.   _Turn down the Hallmark, dude._  

A flood of amusement poured through the link.   _Of course, Dean._  

As nice as it was lounging around in Castiel’s bed, Dean decided it was time to get up.  He rolled off the mattress and poked around in the dresser for some pants.  His bag was still in the bathroom, and he didn’t feel like walking buck-ass naked down the hall now that Sam was staying.  There was a half bathroom downstairs, but he didn’t want to risk running into his brother if he’d decided to come upstairs to shower or anything. 

He probably should have felt strange putting on Castiel’s clothing without asking, but considering they’d had their dicks inside each other, he felt that it was acceptable.  He settled on a pair of soft jersey pajama bottoms, dark grey with black polka dots, and pulled them up over his bare hips.  They fit loosely, if a little short since he was taller than Castiel, but they were comfortable and would do for now.  He also pulled on a t-shirt, remembering Sam’s reaction to the hickies Castiel had left on him.  The last thing he wanted right now was to face Sam with the new markings from last night. 

It turns out he didn’t have to worry about Sam.  He wasn’t downstairs, or anywhere in the house as far as he could tell.   

“What the hell?” Dean muttered as he ran back upstairs to retrieve his cell phone.  He punched in Sam’s number and glared at the floor as it rang. 

It almost went to voicemail before there was an answer.  “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” 

“Sam, where the hell are you?”  There was a pause, and Dean heard Gabriel speaking in the background.  “Wait, are you with Gabe?” 

“Calm down, Dean.”  The eye-roll was implied in Sam’s tone.  “We’re just at a library.” 

“Why?” 

“Apparently, my Greek sucks and Gabe says I need better reference books.”  Gabriel said something in the background and Sam chuckled.  It was a little unnerving that they were getting along so well.  “Anyway, we’ll be back in a few hours.” 

Dean’s eyebrows went up.  “Why so long?” 

“Uh… because we’re in Greece, and Gabe wants to get dinner before he brings us back.” 

That took a moment to sink in.  “Wait, you’re in _Greece_ _?_ ” 

Gabriel’s voice was muffled, but he was loud enough that Dean could hear him.  “Best place to learn Greek!” 

“How the hell did you get to Greece?” Dean demanded.   

Sam didn’t sound the least bit hesitant when he answered.  “Magic’s pretty awesome.  We didn’t even need passports.” 

Dean ran a hand over his face.  “Alright, well, uh.  I guess that beats flying.” 

Sam laughed.  “It’s a lot faster, yeah, but it’s hell on your stomach.” 

A few months ago, Dean would have freaked out that a witch had zapped his little brother to the other side of the planet.  But his world had been flipped upside down with this whole Familiar/Witch thing, and he was finding himself a lot more accepting of the situation than he would have been normally.  He wasn’t completely pleased that it was _Gabriel_ , but his trust in Castiel bled over onto Gabriel as well.  He sighed and dropped his hand from his face.  “Alright, well I guess be safe then, man.” 

“You’re really cool with this?” Sam’s surprise was so clear, Dean could almost imagine his expression.  Eyebrows climbing into his shaggy hairline, mouth open and catching flies. 

“Yeah, dude.  Whatever.”  He wasn’t exactly cool with it.  But Sam was a Hunter.  He could take care of himself.  “Hey, bring me something back, bitch.” 

“I’ll bring you a rock, jerk.” 

Dean took comfort in the normality of the conversation.  He grinned and said goodbye, tossing his phone on Castiel’s bed since the pants he’d borrowed didn’t have any pockets.  He padded back downstairs, the wood sticking a little to his feet in the humidity.   

He knew Castiel wasn’t in the house (now that he was awake and paying attention) but he could feel his presence in the back yard.  Dean followed the tug out the back door.  He stopped on the patio, surprised to find Castiel sitting cross legged on the grass, facing away from the house.  “Cas, what are you doing?” he asked as he stepped out onto the lawn and went to stand over the other man. 

Castiel didn’t move.  His eyes were closed, and his mouth turned down in a frown of concentration.  “I’m trying to-” he cut off and his brow creased more.  “There’s something wrong with the weather.” 

Dean looked up and around.  It was warm and humid from the previous day’s rain, but there was a light breeze rustling through the branches of the trees.  He thought the weather was really nice actually.  October in the midwest was colder than this, and he was enjoying the fact that he didn’t have to layer up his clothes.   

In fact, other than the trees in the mountains turning every shade of red and yellow over the past month, and the appearance of Halloween decorations in the stores, he wouldn’t have even realized it was autumn.  October had kind of snuck on him. 

_Time flies when you’re having fun_ , he thought to himself.  And he was enjoying himself.  Sure, sometimes he missed hunting, but running the store and hanging out with Castiel and Charlie was a nice change of pace.  Of course, if his dad knew that he’d been fucking around at playing house in Utah, he’d be pissed.  But Dean could easily ignore the guilt, because when this was over he’d be curse-free, and that was worth it. 

He ignored the little voice in the back of his mind listing all the times that his curse had actually helped him in hunts.  He could still hunt without his ability to shift.  He’d probably just have to find himself a partner.  It would be easier without having the constant need to hide what he was from them. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, he curled his legs under himself and sat in the grass next to Castiel.  “Weather seems fine to me, Cas.” 

Castiel let out a long sigh, and turned to look at Dean, his eyes still glowing a little from whatever magic he’d been working.  “You only say that because you’re not from around here.  It’s far too warm for this time of year.” 

Dean lifted an eyebrow.  “Really?  I thought Utah was a desert.” 

“Mountain desert, and we’re far enough north to experience somewhat harsh winters.  This is a heat wave for this area.  Haven’t you been paying attention to the weather reports?” 

Shrugging, Dean looked away.  From Castiel’s back yard he had a great view of the Wasatch mountains and their fiery colors.  He wondered what they’d look like covered in snow.  “Not really.” 

“Usually there’s a lot of rain during autumn, and sometimes there will even be a snow storm just before Halloween,” Castiel explained.  He leaned forward and ran his fingers through the grass.  “Something is keeping it too warm, and too dry.” 

Well that sounded ominous.  Castiel had told him from the beginning that he wanted to try busting up the drought that had been affecting the area, but he hadn’t really talked about it otherwise.  Dean had forgotten that he’d already been working on it.  “Could it just be Global Warming?” 

Castiel squinted up at the sky.  There were clouds passing overhead, but they were the light fluffy kind that didn’t hint at rain at all.  “It is possible that climate change is to blame.” 

He didn’t sound at all certain.  Dean leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees so that he could get a better look at Castiel’s face.  “But you don’t think so.” 

The only response he received was a shrug.  That wasn’t comforting.  “So what are you going to do about it?” 

Castiel let out a gusting breath and turned to smile at Dean.  “Keep poking at it.” 

“Do you need my help?”  Even though Castiel had told him once that just his presence was enough, he couldn’t help but remember their first conversation when Cas had told him that he’d be able to channel more power if Dean was shifted.  “If you need more mojo, I can take my necklace off for a little while.” 

A pulse of several different emotions came through their link.  Surprise, pleasure, and a little bit of concern being the top three.  “You wouldn’t mind?” Castiel asked. 

Dean shrugged.  “It was kinda part of the deal, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed with a dip of his head.  “But I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

If Dean still harbored any suspicion that Castiel only wanted him around for his Familiar abilities (which he didn’t, because he’d been there for the sex and he was pretty sure Cas would at least want to repeat those performances a few more times), then that reaction would have convinced him otherwise.  It had been Castiel’s idea to make this deal, and yet he’d never once asked Dean to shift.  And now that the offer had been made, he was worried about making Dean uncomfortable?  Yeah, Dean was pretty sure Castiel was not the user Jo thought he was. 

In response to Castiel’s words, Dean reached up and pulled off his pendant.  He held it out, waiting until Castiel reached out to take it.  As soon as his fingers slipped free of it, he felt the shift start.  Second later, he was a cat.  Maybe not his first choice of form (no matter what he’d said to Castiel the previous morning.  He’d only admitted that because he’d been mostly asleep, so it didn’t count), but at least he hadn’t turned into something weird, like a bat or an emu or whatever.  Just because he usually turned into the kind of animal people kept as pets, didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn into an exotic pet.   

Castiel smiled at him.  “Thank you, Dean.” 

_Don’t mention it,_ Dean replied.  He twitched his whiskers.   _Uh… do you need me to do anything else?_  

“It might help if we were in physical contact,” Castiel answered.  “Although, I can already feel the difference in my power.” 

_Physical contact, huh?_  Well that wasn’t too difficult.  At least he didn’t have to do much.   _Okay, then.  How do we want to do this?_  

Castiel hesitated for a moment, chewing his bottom lip as he considered something.  Then, he reached over and picked Dean up, quickly settling him in the space between Castiel’s thighs.  “Is this all right?” 

Being picked up and plopped down in someone’s lap was not something Dean had experienced since he’d been a toddler.  His tail flipped in wild arcs as he tried to assimilate what had just happened.  He didn’t mind sitting in Castiel’s lap, but it took him a moment to relax enough to settle down into a comfortable position.   _Yeah, sure,_ he finally answered.   

Castiel had the balls to chuckle at him.  It was pretty brave considering how close Dean’s claws were to that part of his anatomy.  “We don’t have to do this.” 

_No, no.  It’s cool._  Dean shifted a little more, curling in on himself.   _Do what you gotta do, man.  I’m fine._  

Castiel only nodded.  He settled his palms on his knees, and went back to doing whatever witchy thing he must have been doing before Dean came outside and interrupted him. 

An odd sensation curled through Dean’s body.  It was almost like a burn, and a little bit of a tingle.  But it didn’t hurt, and it actually felt kind of nice.  Whatever it was, it almost seemed like something was flowing through him and into Castiel.  He assumed this is what it felt like when Castiel used him as a focus for his power.   

The feeling gradually increased, and Dean’s eyes drooped closed.  His tail settled down until just the tip flipped in uneven beats against Castiel’s leg.  A low rumble began to emanate from deep within him and it took him a moment to realize he was purring. 

He probably would have freaked out about that, but just as it occurred to him what was happening, Castiel’s large palm suddenly swept over his head and down his side.  His fingers curled gently around Dean’s tail in a soft caress before the tip slipped free of his grip, and he repeated the motion, petting him from his head to the tip of his tail again. 

His purring increased in volume, and he relaxed even further under Castiel’s touch.   _Dude, if you tell Sammy about this, I will stab you._  

The fucker chuckled at him again.  “He won’t hear it from me.” 

_Good.  But, uh… don’t stop._  

“Of course, Dean.”

 

\-----

 

The rest of the week passed in a blur.  Mornings were hectic, with Castiel providing breakfast for everyone while Gabriel and Sam argued Greek semantics over the dining room table.  Castiel and Dean still spent a lot of time in the shop, and evenings were a mix of movie nights or spending time outside working on the weather.   

Castiel seemed to become more and more worried that there wasn’t any change, mumbling to himself that there should at least be rain.  Gabriel would sometimes cast him concerned looks now and then, but he mostly kept up his cheerful demeanor.  Dean had asked him at one point why he wasn’t helping, but Gabriel had explained that weather wasn’t his thing and he’d be better off letting Castiel work his magic in peace. 

It was a reasonable excuse, and Dean let it go.  Besides, as obnoxious as Gabriel was, he seemed to be genuinely interested in teaching Sam about the basics of magic.  He complained often, and loudly about having to first _un_ teach Sam all the crap he’d learned on his own, but the two of them seemed to be enjoying the lessons together.   

They weren’t always at the house because Gabriel liked to drag Sam all over creation, but when they were, they spent a lot of time closeted in Castiel’s small library upstairs.  Sam was having such a good time geeking out over all the spell books that Dean didn’t have the heart to ask him if he was ever going back to Stanford.  He figured the kid was getting an education anyway, and that was all he’d ever wanted, so Dean would be happy for him. 

They were in there now, learning how to draw arcane symbols that looked like a bunch of chicken scratch.  Dean had been up there watching for a little while, making fun of Sam and his shitty art skills when he realized it was Friday, and Dean had forgotten to make his weekly “don’t panic!” call to Jo.   

He went into Castiel’s room and plopped down on the bed, phone in hand.  He put it on speaker and set it on his chest while it rang.  He was happy to hear Ellen’s voice when she answered. 

“Roadhouse.  Whattaya want?” 

“Hey, Ellen,” Dean said.  “It’s a good thing you don’t take phone orders.  You’d scare away the customers.” 

“Gotta make sure only the people I actually want to talk to are calling me,” she joked back.  “What’s up kiddo?  How you been?” 

They chatted for a few minutes.  He didn’t want to make her suspicious about his reason for calling, and he had no idea how much Jo had told her about his situation.  When he finally got around to asking for Jo, he was surprised by Ellen’s answer. 

“She ain’t been here for a few days.  Took off with Garth.” 

For a split second, Dean thought she meant that Jo took off with Garth to get hitched or something equally disturbing.  But that was so ridiculous he let it go immediately.  He frowned, wondering what the two of them could be up to.  “Did they say what they were doing?” 

Ellen sighed, and it was full of put-upon-mother-of-a-headstrong-child.  “Hunting, I suspect.  She wouldn’t say exactly, but I know how to fill in the blanks.”  She paused.  “I kinda figured you’d know, seeing as how you two have been having your weekly phone pow-wow sessions.” 

Dean’s mouth went dry.  So Ellen didn’t know what he was up to, but she was smart enough to figure out he was up to _something._  “No, she never mentioned anything.” 

“Uh huh.”  She sounded anything but convinced. 

Dean cleared his throat.  “Well, uh… if you hear from her, let her know I called.” 

“Sure, Dean.  And if you hear from Jo, let her know her ass is grounded.” 

He wasn’t about to point out that Jo was too old for that.  That might get his ass grounded, and he believed Ellen could pull it off.  Instead, he said his goodbyes and hung up. 

Propping an arm behind his head, he stared at the ceiling while he thought.  It seemed a little odd that Jo would take off when she was still all over his case about his deal with Castiel.  He’d like to think that she was starting to trust his judgement, but he knew her better than that.  He just hoped that whatever she was up to, Garth kept her out of trouble.  

 

\----

 

The good news was that Sam and Charlie got along great.  That was also the bad news. 

Dean was seriously regretting his entire life, and the series of choices that led him to be in a car with his brother and his new best friend at the same time.   

It had started with an innocent suggestion for a barbeque to celebrate having Sam around.  After all, Dean missed his brother while he was away at Stanford, and he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to spend as much time as he could with him before he got caught up in all the witchy stuff Castiel and Gabriel wanted to teach him.  Cas had thought it was a good idea and wanted to invite Charlie.  And of course when Dean had called Charlie to see if she was game for a party, she told him to come pick her ass up.  

Dean and Sam had driven to Charlie’s apartment, a grocery list from Castiel tucked in Dean’s pocket.  When Charlie answered the door, she took one look at Dean and grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  “So, who topped last night?” 

Of course Sam laughed.  Dean could admit (grudgingly) that he would have too if their positions were reversed.  Besides, he was getting used to it.  She hadn’t stopped teasing him since the first day he and Castiel had gone into the shop together and she’d caught sight of a hickey that hadn’t been quite well enough hidden by his shirt.  So Dean just rolled his eyes and made introductions before dragging them both to the grocery store.  The fancy local one with the fantastic butcher shop in the back. 

Ignoring them did little to lessen their enjoyment, however.  Charlie had to tell Sam all about how she’d totally called it, and was surprised it had taken so long.  Sam spent the whole drive to the store talking about all the little signs he’d seen over the years that Dean might dig guys a little bit while Charlie listened with wide eyes and an excited smile.   

Even the prospect of delicious fresh meat could not take his attention from the sniggering those two _children_ did behind his back.  Seriously, he expected one of them to break out into _Dean and Cas, sitting in a tree,_ any minute now.   

He was about ready to run them both over with the Impala by the time they got to the store.  He grumbled the threat under his breath as he got out of the car, and started walking toward the building.  He was so irritated, he didn’t notice how empty the parking lot was, or the small group of employees standing outside the front doors until he was almost there and he could hear them talking. 

“I don’t know!  Everything was fine when I came in, but now it’s all rotten!”  The speaker was a young man, probably either still in high school or freshly graduated if the braces and acne were anything to go by.  He was waving his hands around excitedly as he spoke to an angry looking older woman who was probably his boss.  “You can’t blame us for this!  Fruit doesn’t go bad _that_ fast!” 

Dean slowed, and Sam and Charlie caught up with him.  “Come on, Dean,” Charlie said cheerfully.  “You can’t expect us not to tease-” 

Sam had caught the shift in Dean’s demeanor and he was frowning at the people out in front of the store.  “What’s going on?” he asked, cutting Charlie off with a hand on her shoulder to stop her from going any further. 

“Probably nothing,” Dean replied absently.  He was still listening to the employees trying to convince their boss that they hadn’t done anything wrong.  “But it wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” 

He strode forward, stopping right next to the group.  He didn’t have a fake badge on him, and he was dressed casually, but he’d spent so many years bluffing that he could usually get people to go along with him if he sounded like he was a voice of authority.  “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on here?” He asked firmly.  And winging it, added.  “The last thing we need is a health inspection, so let’s figure this out quick and get it cleaned up.” 

The woman who was probably the manager gave him a confused look and opened her mouth to speak, but the young man with the pimples and the braces spoke up first, automatically reacting to Dean’s authoritative tone.  “It’s the produce,” he said shakily.  “It’s all rotten, as if it’s been sitting in the sun for weeks.” 

Sam had come up next to Dean and heard what the kid had to say.  He fell in with the ruse easily.  “We’d better take a look.” 

Then they were shouldering past the confused employees, Charlie quick on their heels.  As the glass doors slid open an awful stench billowed out, and Dean winced.  He didn’t let it stop him though, because if he hesitated the manager chick might come to her senses and realize they were just random people off the streets and try to stop them.  So he breathed through his mouth, and was thankful that he hadn’t been a dog in the last few days.  He already wanted to gag, and the enhanced sense of smell would have sucked. 

“Holy shit,” Charlie mumbled into the crook of her elbow, her wide eyes looking around frantically.  “What _is_ that?”

Sam had already started striding toward the produce section.  “Rotten fruits and vegetables,” he answered.  “And the kid was right… it’s like a compost heap in here.” 

Dean followed behind him and nearly gagged when he got close enough to see what used to be an area filled with fresh fruits and vegetables.  Everything was shades of black, brown, and an unhealthy green.  Most of it was covered in mold, and fruit flies were everywhere.  “Charlie, you ain’t allergic to penicillin are you?” he asked when he saw the pile of black lumps in boxes labeled “oranges”.  

“No,” she answered, her voice still muffled by her attempt to keep her nose covered.  “But there’s no saying I won’t become allergic after being exposed to this much of it all at once.  What the hell is going on?” 

“Probably magic, if it all went bad in just a few hours,” Sam said.  He started looking around, under the displays and around the refrigerated section where the little sprinklers had just started spraying water on the decomposing vegetables.   

Dean immediately joined him, looking for hex bags.  “Charlie, look around.  See if you can find a little cloth or leather bag about yea big,” he held up his fingers indicating just a few inches.  “They’re usually tied shut with string or braided hair.” 

“Gross,” she muttered, but started looking anyway. 

A moment later the store manager approached, but she stopped a few feet from actually entering the produce section.  Her face was wrinkled up with disgust, and she was obviously trying very hard not to breath through her nose.  “Excuse me, I don’t know who you people are, but you can’t be in here right now.” 

Sam straightened from searching under the apple stand and gave the woman a reassuring smile.  “We’re only here to help.  Hopefully we won’t be too long.” 

“But, this is a health hazard and if you get sick-” 

He approached her, and cut her off with a hand on her shoulder.  “Don’t worry ma’am.  We’ve been sent by the home office, and-” 

Dean stopped listening to whatever bullshit story Sam was conjuring for the woman.  He was glad Sammy was there to take care of that.  Dean was never as good at it as he was.  But he was damn good at searching out magic.  He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on blocking out everything.  Sound, scent, light… it all faded away.  And there it was… a tiny pulse of magic.   

He opened his eyes so he wouldn’t run into anything and carefully followed his internal sense until he was standing in front of what looked like it used to be a stack of cabbage.  The source of the magic was underneath.  “Oh god,” he groaned.  “This is why I hate witches.”  

“Did you find something?” Charlie came to stand next to him. 

Instead of answering her, he pulled up the sleeve on his shirt and plunged his hand into the rotting mound.  It made a squelching sound, and was slimy against his skin.  He gritted his teeth and tried to hold his breath as a fresh wave of nasty air tried to force it’s way up his nose.  He had to dig around a little, but eventually he found what he was looking for.  He wrapped his fingers around the hex bag and pulled it free, stumbling away from the display case and trying very hard not to retch all over his shoes.  It would only make things worse. 

He uncurled his fingers for Charlie to see the little bag he held.  “Found it.”

“What is it?” She leaned close, staring at it curiously. 

“A hex bag.  And a bad sign.”  Dean transferred it to his other hand and stared at his slimed arm in disgust.  “I am never eating a salad again.” 

“You never eat salad anyway.”  Sam must have appeased to store manager, because she was no longer hovering around.  He frowned at the hex bag, taking it from Dean to open it and poke around at the fillings.  “Well this is bad news.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean grumbled.  He needed to get to a bathroom to clean himself off quick or he was going to lose the battle for dominance with his stomach.  “We gotta get back and tell Cas.” 

Sam’s eyes widened with concern.  “You don’t think he-” 

“No,” Dean barked.  He could tell what Castiel’s power felt like, and this was not it.  “I just think he’ll be the best option for finding out who actually did this.” 

Sam accepted his answer easily, nodding and wrapping the hex bag back up.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Let’s get going.”  He raised an eyebrow at Dean’s arm.  “Uh, after you clean up.” 

Dean spun around and headed for the front of the store where he knew the restrooms were located from previous visits.  “Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious.” 

The whole time he cleaned himself up, and for the whole drive home, his mind raced.  Someone was using black magic in Castiel’s hometown, and they were going to have to put the kibosh on that quick.  The last thing he needed was for shit like this to lure in more Hunters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a moment and say thank you for everyone who is taking the time to read this. I notice every single Kudos and comment, and I apologize if I don't reply. Sometimes I get shy and just don't know what to say. You know how it is ;) But I love you all, and am glad you're enjoying this random idea that has somehow turned into the longfic from hell.
> 
> THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE SILLY FLUFF, I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, OR WHY ALL THE PLOT D:
> 
> Anyway, the next update may be slow. I'm going to be on a trip for the next seven days, and I don't know how much time I'll have to write. Plus, I have somehow managed to start writing a sequel to Feels Like Home, and I'm alternating between stories. The FLH Sequel is angsty as fuck, and I'm giving myself whiplash, but I can't ignore the plot bunnies! Otherwise they'll turn into monsters and eat me. Can't have that.


	15. Worse News

The hex bag in his hand was simple.  Cotton cloth filled with herbs, bones, and a few drops of blood, all tied together with rough twine.  Castiel could feel the oily residue of black magic coming from it, and he wanted to scrub his skin although he knew that the feeling would linger for a few days regardless.   

“You found this in the Teacher’s Lounge?” he asked Dean.   

“Taped to the bottom of the table,” Dean confirmed.   

Castiel let out a long breath, whispering a word that lit the hex bag on fire.  He dropped it to the dirt outside the elementary school where it had been found and watched the flames change color as they burned through the different spell components.   

This was the third hex bag they’d found over the course of twenty four hours.  The first being the one Dean found in the grocery store.  The second was in the local library, causing an outbreak of beetles that quickly ate through the entire reference section in a matter of hours.  This one had caused a lice infestation, which Castiel had easily cleared up with a tiny counter spell.  So far, the hex bags had done nothing terribly harmful, but he was worried that whoever was pulling these magical pranks would get bored and start escalating the spells into more dangerous territory. 

“Well that was a dead end,” Sam said as he walked out of the doors.  He looked very nice in his suit, which he unbuttoned in the unnatural heat once he was standing next to Dean who was still staring down at the burning hex bag.  “None of the teachers had anything helpful.  We could start interviewing the students, but it’ll take a while since there are so many of them.” 

Dean grunted and shook his head.  “I don’t want to freak out their parents.” 

Sam nodded his agreement.  “Should we go back to the library or the grocery store and see if we can learn anything else?” 

“I doubt that would be helpful,” Castiel interjected before Dean could answer.  “Whoever is doing this has done a fair job of covering their tracks.”  The words didn’t sound as bitter as they tasted.  This whole thing was making Castiel angry. 

A witch - and an amateur one at that - was deliberately causing havoc in the city he called home.  He’d seen this type of behavior before.  It was usually someone young, pulling pranks and getting revenge on people who had wronged them.  In the past, Castiel had been able to find them with a simple location spell and scare them off the path they were taking.  But somehow this witch was able to stay hidden from him.  Not even Gabriel was having any luck, and that was disturbing since he was much better at anything dealing with subterfuge than Castiel was.   

As if thinking of his brother conjured him, Gabriel appeared at Castiel’s elbow.  He huffed out a sigh.  “I got nothing.” 

Dean threw up his hands.  Frustration rolled off in him waves, and Castiel had to build up his barriers slightly to block some of it so it wouldn’t influence his own emotions.  “Well that’s great.  We’ve got a prankster on the loose, and the King of the Tricksters can’t find him?  We’re fucked.” 

Guitar riffs broke the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over them after that announcement, and Dean dug his phone out of his pocket.  “It’s Charlie,” he said, answering it and putting in on speakerphone.  “What’ve you got Chuck?” 

“More bad news.” Her voice was strained with worry.  “Actually?  Worse news.  And you guys are gonna have to hurry.” 

Castiel looked around at his companions.  Their expressions mirrored his own feelings of anxiety.  “What is it?” 

“The Frontrunner went off the tracks about ten minutes ago.” No one asked how she knew.  Since the first hex bag had been found, she’d been “monitoring things”, and Castiel knew that it involved technology he probably wouldn’t understand for at least another century.  “From what I’m hearing, it’s pretty bad.” 

There was a collective pause while they all absorbed that information.  The Frontrunner was a passenger train running over eighty miles from Provo to North of Ogden.  The tracks were set back from the freeway, and there wasn’t much that could derail it.   

“We’re on our way,” Dean said before hanging up and pocketing his phone and pulling out his keys.  He started striding toward his car, not hesitating to see if the others were following.  “Come on, let’s get going.” 

“We’ll meet you there,” Castiel announced.

He didn’t wait for Dean to react, instead closing his eyes and sending his senses out to find the train.  It wasn’t hard to find because there were a lot of injuries, and he felt them the same way he felt hospitals when he allowed himself to.  Pain and suffering always pulled at him, and he allowed the tug to guide his movement.   

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing next to an ambulance that must have just arrived on the scene because the EMTs were jumping out of the back and running toward the wreckage.  A cacophony of shouts and cries rose above the sound of traffic from the nearby freeway.  More sirens were wailing in the distance as more emergency vehicles approached. 

Castiel had to slam up his mental barriers against the outpouring of fear and pain as he approached the overturned train cars.  The bi-level car closest to the engine appeared to be in the worst condition, the red, white, and blue metal twisted and windows shattered.  He rushed toward it, following the EMTs.   

“Talk about a shitty commute,” Gabriel said from beside him.   

Castiel was unsurprised by his presence, since he’d assumed his brother would follow him almost immediately.  “I know healing isn’t your forte, but I am going to need your assistance.” 

“Yeah, you got it bro.”  Gabriel immediately started for an opening in the wreckage.  “Your Familiar is pissed at you for leaving him behind, by the way.” 

“I know.”  Despite the miles between them, Castiel could feel Dean’s rush of annoyance.  He suspected if he lowered his barriers enough, he would also hear Dean cussing him out.  That thought was almost enough to cheer him up, despite the chaos around him.  “He’ll catch up.” 

Gabriel snorted, and ducked into the train, calling out reassurances to the passengers.  He immediately started working on freeing people who were not as badly injured, while Castiel sought out those who needed him the most. 

Rage threatened to overwhelm him as he knelt down to a young man who was bleeding from a head wound.  He had to concentrate to push the emotion down, so that he could put himself into a state of mind where healing was possible.  He could be angry later.  For now, he had people to help.  

 

\----

 

By the time Dean caught up with Castiel at the crash site, he was ready to chew nails.  Especially when he got close enough to sense Castiel’s bone deep weariness and sadness.  His immediate reaction was an overwhelming need to get Cas the hell out of there, back to his home and his garden where he could rest and recuperate.  But when he saw what was happening, his anger dimmed. 

He couldn’t see Castiel or Gabriel.  There were too many people milling around for him to find them right away, but he could sense Castiel inside one of the overturned train cars.  A young woman was being helped out of the wreckage by a pair of EMTs, she was crying and babbling “thank you” over and over which Dean assumed meant that Castiel had healed her.  She still looked pretty beaten up, but he doubted Castiel would waste his energy on a full healing with this many people needing his help. 

“This is going to take some major work to keep quiet,” Sam said from beside him.  “People are probably going to start saying that an angel saved them, and start a religion around trains.” 

“Weirder shit has happened,” Dean responded as he reached for the door handle.  He really didn’t give a damn whether people thought they were being rescued by a divine being or not.  All he cared about at the moment was Castiel. 

He could feel a pulse of raw power, burning brightly for a few moments before fading.  That wasn’t Castiel, but from the flavor of it, Dean assumed it was Gabriel.  Moments later, a more delicate rush of magic touched Dean’s senses.  He pointed toward the first overturned car.  “Cas and Gabe are in there.  I’m going to go see if Cas needs me.”  He glanced at his brother, sweeping his eyes over his suite.  “See what you can do to keep the mystic shit out of the news reports.” 

Sam gave a curt nod, his sharp eyes already on the news crew that was beginning to stalk the survivors.  He approached them with long strides, already reaching into his jacket for a fake ID. 

Dean made a beeline for the train, letting Castiel’s presence in the back of his mind pull him in the right direction.  He ignored the shouts of a uniformed officer, and ducked inside the train car where Castiel was working.  Kneeling down next to Castiel, he took a moment to watch what he was doing.  The young man gasping with pain under Castiel’s fingers must have had a broken collarbone, since that is where Cas was focusing his magic.   

“What can I do?” Dean asked quietly. 

Castiel’s lips turned up in a smile, even though he kept his eyes trained on what he was doing.  “Being here is enough, Dean.” 

That made Dean roll his eyes.  “Would’a been easier if you’d brought me along, or you know, waited for me.  Douche.” 

“I needed to get started right away,” Castiel responded.  Humor drifted through their link.  “And I assumed you wouldn’t want to leave your car behind if I brought you with me.” 

Dean’s irritation immediately popped out of existence, replaced with a warmth in his chest.  “Okay, yeah,” he said gruffly.  “Good point.” 

The guy Castiel was healing let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed against the wall of the train, which was now doing double duty as the floor.  He blinked up at Castiel, awe coloring his expression.  “Are you an angel?” 

Dean rolled his eyes and answered before Castiel could.  “Nah, kid.  You just knocked your head pretty hard.” He helped the young man sit up, and then get up on his feet so he could make his way out of the train car while Castiel moved to help an older man trapped under a mass of bent metal and cloth that used to be seats.  “Now get the hell out of here and out of the way so we can clean up this mess.” 

The young man gave Dean a wary look, eyeing his suit.  Dean didn’t feel like coming up with a story for why he was in the train, so he just nudged the kid until he finally started stumbling in the right direction.  Dean paused to look around, seeing if there was anyone else caught under debris that he could help.  The train car was mostly empty at this point and he wondered what kind of spell Castiel had worked to keep the EMTs out.   

Wanting to be useful, Dean closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to see if he could find a hex bag.  All he could sense was Castiel and Gabriel and their healing mojo.  He let out a frustrated huff.  He had no idea if there was a hex bag on the train, but after the crazy shit he’d seen recently he wasn’t going to ignore the possibility. 

But he couldn’t get his senses around the two witches actively using their powers.  He sighed and crawled through the wreckage to Castiel’s side.  “Hey Cas?” 

“Yes, Dean?” The witch didn’t even look at him.  He was busy checking over an unconscious passenger. 

“I need you to hang onto this for me.”  Dean reached up and pulled off his pendant.  When Castiel didn’t look at him right away, he nudged him in the shoulder.

Castiel turned to see what he held in his hand.  His eyes widened a little, but he said nothing about the surprise that Dean could feel through their link.  Instead he reached up and took the horned head pendant in his hand.  “Of course, Dean.” 

Dean smiled weakly.  This was the first time he would be shifting in front of an audience, and he’d one-hundred percent rather not.  But his abilities were heightened when he was shifted.  His eyes traced over the people in the train car.  Few of them were paying attention to him as they tried to help each other, so with a last deep breath, he let go of the pendant and let himself shift. 

He had a split second where he realized he was turning into a lizard, and he grit his teeth and thought _DOG_ as hard as he could.  He held little hope that it would work, but mid-shift something changed.  There was a painful twisting sensation and he slammed his eyes shut, afraid that he might have done himself some irreparable damage.  

When the shift finished, his senses expanded.  The scent of burning oil, blood, salty tears, and sweat laced with adrenaline assaulted him, and he recoiled, letting out a whine. 

"Dean, are you alright?" 

Dean opened his eyes, surprised to find himself at a taller height than he'd expected to be.  Castiel was looking at him with a frown.  Curiosity and concern filled the link.   _Yeah... yeah, I'm good.  Uh... what am I?_  

The crease between Castiels brows deepened.  "You're a German Shepherd." 

If Dean had hands, he would have thrown them up and whooped with excitement.  That was the first time he'd ever been able to control the shift.  He did, however, let out an excited yip and he was vaguely aware of his tail wagging hard enough to shake his hind quarters.   _Awesome!_  

"Are you sure, Dean?" Castiel reached out to touch him, gently rubbing at his ears.  "When you shifted, I sensed pain-" 

_I'm great, Cas.  Don't worry about it._  Dean licked at his hand in a show of reassurance.   _I'll tell you about it later... you've got folks to heal, and I'm going to go searching for hex bags._  

Castiel nodded reluctantly.  His attention was pulled away momentarily by a pained moan and a shout for help from one of the other passengers.  He looked back down at Dean and quickly leaned in to press a kiss against the fur right above his nose.  "Be safe." 

Dean licked his face in retaliation, and bared his teeth in a grin at Castiel's expression.  He barked, and turned away from the witch, his nose held high as he sifted through the train's scents for the tang of black magic.  Behind him, Castiel went to answer the calls for help.  Dean could feel a tug inside of him as Castiel began casting spells.  He opened himself up to it, and then went searching. 

It only took him a few minute to determine that there wasn't a hex bag on this car of the train, so he scrambled out through a broken window and padded toward the second overturned car.  Halfway there, his ears caught a voice he recognized.  The wind shifted just as he turned his head, bringing a familiar scent.  Ivory soap, wood polish, and beer, and underneath the scent of _Jo._ And close on the heels of that, the scent of Garth. 

A growl rumbled in his chest when he caught sight of the two of them.  He barely registered that they were standing with Sammy who didn't look nearly as pissed as he should be.  He just broke into a run, sliding to a halt next to his brother and letting out an annoyed bark.   

_What the fuck are you two idiots doing here?_  

Sam heard him, and gave him the "Calm Down Dean" bitchface.  "You know they can't hear you, Dean." 

Garth lit up.  "Dean?"  

Garth hadn’t been in on the secret, but it was a shitty time to try and play cover-up.   _Yeah it's me, dumbass._  

Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean a curious look, probably surprised that he wanted to let Garth into the special club.  "Yeah, this is Dean." 

"Oh, wow!  I’d have never guessed it was you!." Completely unperturbed by the revelation that the German Shepherd was someone he knew as a human, Garth crouched down, and to Dean's utter mortification started rubbing his ears like he was an actual dog.  "Hey there, buddy." 

Dean resolutely ignored how good the ear rubbing felt, and snapped at the other man.   _Knock that shit off._  

Sam didn't have to translate that one.  Garth jerked his hands back, holding them up in a gesture of surrender.  "Sorry, Dean.  It's just that most dogs like me, and I forgot-" 

Dean barked to cut him off.   _Sam, ask them what the hell they're doing here, and then tell them to get the hell out._  

"Yeah, don't pet him," Sam warned.  "He might take off a finger if you piss him off.  What are you two doing here?" 

"We came looking for you," Jo answered.  Her jaw was set at a stubborn angle and her eyes were hard as she faced off against them.  "Obviously it's a good thing we did.  Those witches you've been hanging around with are obviously bad news." 

Dean would roll his eyes if he was in human form.   _Dude, it's not our witches causing the problem._  

Sam cast him an amused glance, but Dean didn't bother to find out why.  He had more important shit to deal with at the moment.   

"Why do you think that?" Sam asked instead of telling the meddling Hunters what Dean had said. 

Jo waved her hands around.  "Um, hello?  Look around you.  And don't even try to tell me you haven't been paying attention to all the weird shit that's been going on in this city." 

"We're aware of what's going on," Sam answered smoothly.  "And we're working to find out who is behind it." 

"You _know_ -" Jo started heatedly. 

Dean barked.   _Tell her about the hex bags._  

"Have you found one here?" Sam asked, raising his brows curiously. 

_I've only had a chance to check one of the train cars._  

Garth was grinning from ear to ear.  His big eyes flicking back and forth between Sam and Dean.  "You guys can talk to each other? That's balls, man." 

Dean really really wanted to roll his eyes.   _That's not even how you use that phrase._  

"What are you two talking about?" Jo demanded.  And directly to Dean.  "Where's your pendant?" 

Sam broke in again, answering for him.  "Dean's looking for hex bags.  We've found them at the last few places that were affected by a spell.  Gabriel and Castiel are strong enough and experienced enough that they don't use them." 

"Oh yeah?" Jo crossed her arms over her chest, her stance screaming challenge.  "Then if they're so powerful, and so good," she paused over the word with a disbelieving sniff, "then how come this happened?" 

"That's what we're trying to find out," Sam answered. 

"Can we help?" Garth asked hopefully. 

_No!_ Dean growled out.   

Sam cut him an annoyed glance.  "We've got it under control." 

_Damn straight._  

_Dean?_ Castiel's voice drifted through their link.   _Is there something wrong?_  

_Jo and Garth are here,_ Dean's answer was accompanied by a mental sigh.  Truthfully, it probably wasn't a bad idea to have two extra Hunters helping out, seeing as how they haven't made any progress on finding out who was causing all the chaos.   _I'm handling it._  

There was a throbbing sense of acknowledgement and then Castiel retreated from his thoughts.  Dean immediately missed him, but could still feel Castiel's power filtering through him.  He opened his mental barriers a little further, and he could almost feel Castiel's smile as their thoughts brushed against each other.  There were no words in the communication, but Dean could feel Castiel's trust that he would handle the situation.  He resolutely ignored how good that made him feel, shoving those feelings into his mental glovebox with the golden glow that he had yet to reveal to Castiel. 

He swung his attention back to his brother who was still arguing with Jo.  Dean huffed in annoyance.   _I'm going to go find the hex bag.  Put these morons to work.  We'll deal with them later._  He barely waited for Sam's nod of acknowledgement before he trotted away, already tuning into his senses in an attempt to find the source of the accident.

 

\------

 

It had been a very long time since Castiel had experienced such bone deep weariness, although he could honestly say it was nothing compared to healing people through outbreaks of disease, the most recent being the flu pandemic of 1918.  But he had been expending a tremendous amount of power over the last few days, and even with Dean's presence he was pushing himself harder than he probably should.  Between his work on the weather and a full day of healing, even minor spells would be a huge drag on his power reserves. 

At the crash site, Gabriel had lectured him about exerting himself and with Dean backing him up had finally talked Castiel into going home.  He'd healed the worst of the injuries, and all that was left was casting a mass spell to hide the fact that the brothers had been healing people.   

That was more Gabriel's domain, so he and Sam had stayed behind to complete it.   

Now, Castiel was struggling to keep his eyes open as Dean drove them home.  The radio was down low, and Dean was singing along, his voice quiet but no less beautiful.  It lulled Castiel, and he didn't even realize he'd dozed off until he felt the car pull to a stop and Dean reached out to nudge him awake. 

"Hey, sleepyhead," Dean murmured when Castiel blinked up at him.  His lips twisted up on one side in a wry smile.  "You're worn out.  I thought having a Familiar was supposed to help." 

Despite the easy expression, Castiel could feel the concern rolling off Dean in waves.  He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb over the stubble on Dean's chin.  "It has been a very long time since I've exerted myself so much," he answered.  "I will be fine after a nap." 

Dean leaned into Castiel's touch before closing the space between them to press their lips together.  Castiel sighed into the kiss, grateful to have Dean there, Familiar or not.  He was tired, and frustrated that he couldn't find the witch causing so much havoc.  

Another hex bag had been found at the crash site, and again, Castiel had been unable to determine it's source.  And that worried him greatly.  It meant that whoever the witch was, they were either very powerful and were using hex bags for some reason beyond Castiel's comprehension - fun, maybe? - or they were being protected from his location spells. 

The only way to protect yourself from a location spell was to work with a demon.  And that was a possibility Castiel didn't particularly want to face just yet.  Not until he'd had a few hours of sleep, preferably wrapped around Dean. 

"Come on," Dean grunted, nudging him toward the car door.  "Let's get you inside and into bed." 

It took a lot of effort to drag himself into the house, and Castiel didn't bother going to his bedroom as Dean suggested.  Instead he walked straight out to the back yard where he kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks and stood barefoot in the grass.  He could feel the trickle of power through the soles of his feet, and he breathed in the scent of autumn gratefully. 

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked from behind him. 

Castiel nodded.  "I just need to ground myself for a moment." 

Dean stepped up beside him, close enough that their arms brushed.  They stood silently for a moment.  Castiel cast his senses out through the garden, checking the health of each plant and tree.  He was too drained to do much more than monitor their descent into hibernation as the season changed, but they responded to his touch anyway, leaves perking as if being rustled by a light wind.

"That's a bit creepy," Dean murmured.   

"Plants are life forms too, Dean.  They are far more simple than animals, but they do have a rudimentary form of awareness." 

"You should tell the vegans," Dean replied snarkily.  "Maybe they'll stop bitching at us carnivores." 

That drew a low chuckle out of Castiel.  He could feel some of his energy returning, and the walk up the stairs to his bedroom no longer seemed so daunting.  It took very little movement to catch Dean's hand in his own. He was pleased when Dean immediately laced their fingers together, squeezing tightly.   

"How about that nap?" Dean suggested with a sideways glance. 

"Will you join me?" 

"Yeah, Cas.  Let's go." 

Castiel let Dean lead him back in the house and up the stairs to his bedroom.  They both removed most of their clothes and crawled into the bed where they lay on their sides facing each other.  Dean's green eyes were lit from the afternoon light spilling through the curtains, and Castiel was sure he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen something so beautiful.  And he'd lived for a very very long time.

That thought followed him into sleep.  His dreams were vague, but he sensed Dean there along with him, and he found comfort in his presence. 

He woke when he felt Gabriel and Sam, and two others he didn't know come through his wards.  The two guests were probably not a threat if Gabriel was able to bring them through, so he didn't immediately worry about them, instead opting to watch Dean sleep for a moment while he gathered his thoughts. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he doubted it could have been more than a few hours by the angle of the sun.  His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since early morning.  It was enough to prompt him out of the bed.   

Dean stirred when Castiel sat up, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms over his head.  Castiel smiled softly at the sight of rippling muscles under freckled golden skin.  If he weren't starving, and if there weren't guests downstairs, he would have taken the time to spread kisses along that beautiful body.   

Dean let out a soft moan at the apex of his stretch, then relaxed back into the mattress.  He blinked sleepily at Castiel.  "What's up, Cas?" 

"We have guests," Castiel answered as he stood and began dressing.  "They came with Gabriel and Sam." 

"Probably Garth and Jo," Dean grumbled as he rolled off the bed and retrieved his pants.  "Fucking idiots." 

Castiel squinted at the other man.  He remembered Dean mentioning that they were there, but he had been kept busy enough that their presence had slipped his mind.  "I thought they were your friends." He didn't remember Dean talking much about Garth, but he assumed since he was with Jo, that he could be grouped with her. 

Dean sighed as he fastened his pants.  "Yeah, they are." 

"So they're just here to help." 

"They're here because they think you've cast some kind of spell over me," Dean grumbled as he bent down and grabbed his t-shirt.  His voice was muffled as he pulled it over his head.  "They think you're evil, Cas." 

Castiel could easily sense Dean's anger over that.  What he couldn't feel was even the slightest doubt tingeing Dean's feelings.  "But you don't believe that, do you?" Castiel asked. 

Dean's head jerked up and he stared hard at Castiel.  Utter conviction accompanied his words.  "No, Cas.  I don't believe that at all."  He crossed the small space between them and slid his arms around Castiel's waist, pulling him close.  His next words were breathed over Castiel's lips.  "I trust you, Cas." 

When Dean dipped his head and kissed him, Castiel leaned into it, opened himself to it.  He thinned the mental barriers between them, letting Dean feel how much those words moved him.  He only held back the tiny flow of emotion that he thought might scare Dean away.  The golden bright glow inside himself that was his love for this Hunter who had stumbled into his life, and made himself at home. 

He loved Dean.  He wanted him to stay after the solstice.  To share his life and his bed.  With or without the Familiar curse.   

He just didn't know if that is what Dean wanted, and he wouldn't pressure Dean into staying.  He would break the curse, and then he would reveal his feelings, and if Dean wanted to stay, Castiel would make sure he knew he was welcome. 

But first, they had to get through the next few months.  Castiel had cast a contract spell, and he couldn't deviate from their agreement even if he wanted to cure Dean's curse early. 

Dean groaned, and deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past Castiel's lips.  They only broke apart when Dean leaned back to catch his breath.  His green eyes were dark and heavy lidded as he stared down at Castiel.  "We should probably go downstairs or I'm going to shove you down on that bed and pretend no one can hear us." 

Castiel was tempted to let him, especially when an image of what Dean wanted to do floated through their link.  He tilted his head thoughtfully.  "It would be a simple matter to block the sound from leaving this room..." 

Dean's eyes widened, and the arousal he was feeling flooded their link.  Then he threw his head back and laughed.  His eyes sparkled with humor when he finally calmed down enough to say "Damn, Cas.  You sure know how to tempt a guy."  He smacked Castiel's hip lightly.  "Come on, let's get down there and face the music."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH, this chapter was a beast to write. I'm still tired from my trip to San Antonio (Did you know that most of The Middle of Nowhere is located in Texas and New Mexico? I didn't until I had to drive through it. Twice.), and I haven't been in the mood to write at all since I got back. Plus it's one of those "move things along until I get to the part of the story I REALLY want to work on" kinda chapters. But the good news is, I'm moving things along to get to the part of the story I REALLY want to work on :D


	16. So Be It

Not bothering to hide a pout, Castiel nodded and let Dean lead the way downstairs.  They found their guests in the kitchen, sitting around the magically enlarged table, discussing events of the last few days. 

"I just think it's ridiculous that you guys are hundreds," Jo rolled her eyes here, obviously not believing what she was saying, "of years old and you can't power through whatever spell is hiding this dickhead." 

Gabriel caught sight of them coming down the stairs and gave Castiel a serious look as he answered Jo.  "We're strong and experienced.  We're not gods."  Then he cracked a grin first at Jo, then at Sam who blushed (and wasn't that an interesting development?).  "Although we might seem like it to some people." 

 _If he means what I think he means, I'm going to kick his ass, witch or not._  Dean's mental voice was tinged with aggression. 

 _If he means what you think he means, then Sam would have consented to it.  There's no need to defend his honor._  

Dean shot him a glare, but didn't pursue it.  He strode into the room and planted himself between Garth and Jo's chairs.  He crossed his arms over his chest and gave them both what Castiel assumed was a very intimidating scowl.  "I don't think I like what you're accusing them of, Joanna Beth." 

Garth's eyes lit up and he stood to wrap Dean in a hug.  "Dean!  You're human again!" 

Dean rolled his eyes, but grudgingly returned the hug.  "Didn't any of you assholes explain the shifting thing to him?" He carefully disentangled himself from the gangly Hunter, and pushed him back in his chair with a firm hand on his shoulder. 

Ignoring Garth's outburst, Jo braced an elbow on the table and twisted enough to return his heated look without flinching, and Castiel's estimation of her character went up.  "If you think I'm accusing them of causing these problems, then-" 

Sam coughed, and tried to catch her attention, but it was too late.  Dean's expression turned thunderous, and he bent down enough to get in Jo's personal space.  "You don't even know them.  You have no room to judge." 

"I know they're witches," Jo snapped, still not backing down. 

"Jo, maybe we should-" Garth started hesitantly, but he cut off when Jo turned her hot-eyed stare on him.  Shrugging, and giving her a conciliatory smile, Garth offered.  "Dean may be a hothead, but shouldn't we at least trust Sam's judgment?" 

Everyone ignored Dean's sharp "Hey!" 

Jo relaxed slightly and looked at Sam.  There was something almost apologetic in her gaze.  "You sure about this, Sam?" 

Sam for his part seemed ready to knock Dean and Jo's heads together if the frustration rolling off him in waves was any indication.  Castiel was impressed with his ability to keep himself under control.  "Yeah, Jo.  They're good guys."  He leaned across the table, his eyes wide and earnest.   

The puppy face worked on Jo, and she sank back into her chair, sighing loudly.  "Fine.  So what do we do about whoever's planting all these hex bags?" 

" _We_ don't do anything," Dean growled.  He gestured around in a circle indicating the whole group.  " _You-"_ and now he gestured at Jo and Garth, "are going to go home and stay out of trouble.  Does your mom even know you're here?" 

Jo ducked her head, and Castiel knew without a doubt that whoever her mother was, she must be a formidable woman to make someone like Jo wilt like that.  "Uh, she knows I'm with Garth." 

Dean turned his attention to Garth, lifting an eyebrow in question.  "You risked Ellen's wrath?" 

Garth didn't seem fazed.  He smiled beatifically.  "Ellen likes me." 

Castiel’s lips twitched with humor when that comment received an eye-roll from the other three Hunters in the room.  He liked Garth.  The young man seemed eager to help, eager to trust, and from what Castiel could sense of his emotions, he was bubbling over with happiness.  It was a rare individual that had that kind of good cheer, and it was even more rare to find in someone who hunted monsters for a living. 

He cleared his throat, bringing everyone's attention around to him.  "Would anyone care for some dinner?" 

"Cas, you've been working your ass off.  You don't have to cook for everyone," Dean protested. 

"Not sure I'd trust anything he made for me," Jo grumbled under her breath.  Her breath hitched when Dean reached down and gave a lock of her hair a sharp tug.  She cast him a glare, but didn't say anything else. 

"I could make some tea and sandwiches," Castiel offered.  "It would be very little trouble." 

Dean looked like he wanted to protest further, but Gabriel spoke up.  "Sounds good, bro." 

There were nods from the rest of the table's occupants, and Castiel smiled at them before moving further into the kitchen.  To his surprise, Jo stood up and joined him. 

"Want a hand?" She asked.  She still looked sullen, and he could feel the distrust she had for him clearly. 

Castiel nodded.  "That would be nice.  Thank you." 

He pulled out ingredients from the fridge.  Sliced ham, turkey, and cheese.  Tomatoes, avocado, and bean sprouts.  He also got out the mustard and mayo, knowing that Dean loved extra condiments on his sandwiches from weeks of feeding the Hunter.  He laid them out on the counter while Jo pulled out towels and pulled a knife out to slice the tomatoes. 

For a brief moment, Jo held the handle of the large knife in a grip optimized for stabbing, and Castiel could see her eyeing him thoughtfully.  He pretended not to notice.  If she stabbed him, he would heal himself like he did when Dean stabbed him the first time they met.  He almost smiled fondly at the thought, but kept his expression deliberately blank. 

But she didn't stab him.  Instead, the tension drained out of her shoulders and she spun the knife in her grip as she pulled the chopping board toward herself and grabbed a tomato from the bowl he'd set on the counter near her.  She settled into slicing, concentrating on what she was doing.  "I don't trust you," she said in a low voice that only carried to him.  "And I think Dean's an idiot for trusting you." 

"Perhaps he is," Castiel responded just as quietly. 

She shot him an angry look.  "You're not even going to deny it?"

He didn't answer right away.  He caught the excitement in Garth's voice as he asked Dean questions about his shapeshifting ability, and the resigned tone of Dean's answers amused him.  He hadn't had this many people in his home in so many years that he could hardly remember the last time.  Centuries ago, he'd had a family but as younger generations were born, he'd separated himself from them to hide what he was.  It had left his home empty, and lonely.  But he hadn't realized exactly how much until Dean had invaded it, bringing his friends and family along with him. 

He stopped spreading mayo on slices of bread and turned to face her with a solemn look.  "Whether you believe I am a good witch or a bad witch, one thing you can be sure of.  I would never hurt Dean." 

Her eyes widened and she shrank back from him slightly.  He didn't know what she saw in his expression, but it must have been enough to convince her that his words were true.  She swallowed and gave a jerky nod before turning back to the task of slicing tomatoes.  It was the only acknowledgement she gave him, and she stayed quiet and thoughtful while they prepared dinner. 

She no longer radiated hostility, for which he was grateful.  He was tired, and didn't wish to keep up a vigil around her while he was in his own home.  He needed time to recuperate from the power he had expended earlier in the day, and that would happen faster if he could relax. 

They finished their task, bringing plates of sandwiches to the table, which Gabriel had expanded again to allow for the two new guests.  It made the little kitchen nook feel crowded, but Castiel didn't mind.  Dean sat next to him, and scooted their chairs close together so their thighs pressed together, and the contact relaxed him even further.  He could feel his power returning at a quicker pace than it normally would have, and it just added one more reason he was grateful to have Dean around. 

Conversation died down as they ate, but resumed as soon as everyone had finished their first sandwich.  Sam was reaching for his second, when he broke the silence.  "So what are our plans?  We've gotta find whoever is planting these hex bags quick now that people are actually getting injured." 

Dean spoke around a mouth full of turkey, tomato, and cheese, directing his question to Jo and Garth.  "Did either of you make yourselves useful and interview the train passengers?” 

Jo punched him in the arm, but her glare wasn't as baleful as it had been before.  "Of course we did, asshat.  We didn't find out anything useful though." 

"It would be hard to," Sam said with a sigh.  He eyed the sandwich, poking a piece of avocado back between the slices of bread.  "There were hundreds of people on that train, and we could only interview so many before they started leaving the scene." 

Gabriel pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. "And this hex bag isn't giving us any leads either." 

The Hunters recoiled. 

"Dude," Dean snapped.  "Burn that fucking thing!" 

Castiel reached out and picked up the hex bag, sending his own senses through it.  He wasn't able to find anything more than Gabriel was, but he couldn't stop himself from at least trying.  With a sigh, he tossed it to the sink and cast a fire spell on it once it had landed in the stainless steel basin.  "I can't glean anything from it either." 

"Gross," Dean muttered.  "At least go wash your hands.  Those things are filthy." 

Castiel smiled.  "Of course, Dean," he answered as he stood and went to follow the order. 

"There's one other option." 

It was unusual to hear Gabriel so serious, and Castiel immediately turned to face him.  And he knew that he did not like the option Gabriel was suggesting, despite the fact that it remained unvoiced.  His spine straightened and he had to speak through gritted teeth.  "It's not a good idea, Gabriel." 

"Cassie, we've tried everything-" 

"No." 

Gabriel huffed angrily and threw up his hands.  "Do you really think I would suggest it if I thought there was a better option?"  His golden eyes were sympathetic, but determined.  

"I don't even know if she would agree to help." But the protest came out weak, because he did know.  

"Uh, who are we talking about here?" Dean's eyes were narrowed with suspicion as he looked back and forth between Castiel and Gabriel.  "You guys mind sharing with the class?" 

Castiel remained silent under Dean's scrutiny.  Futily he searched his mind for any other options.  But he and Gabriel had already tried every form of location and tracking spell they both knew.  At this point they either needed a breakthrough with one of the witnesses giving them helpful information, or they needed help. 

But if he did this.  If he asked help from _her,_ it could ruin everything he had built with Dean. 

Gabriel stared him down, waiting for him to decide.  Castiel stared right back, avoiding looking at Dean, ignoring him when he called Castiel's name.  He built up his inner barriers against Dean, not wanting him to know what was going through his mind, even though he knew it worried the other man even further. 

After a moment he went limp, leaning back against the counter and dropping his gaze to the floor.  After the train wreck, he knew that something needed to be done quickly.  They needed to find this witch, because he suspected the hex bags were just a distraction to keep him from focusing on the weather issues.  And while no one had died on the train, he couldn't expect the next incident to be the same.  "Alright.  I'll ask her." 

Dean got up from the table and came to stand in front of Castiel, blocking his view of the rest of the people at the table.  He grabbed Castiel's shoulders, squeezing lightly and ducking his head until their eyes could meet.  Curiosity and concern burned through their link, and was reflected in his bright green eyes.  "Cas, what's up?  Who are you talking about?" 

Castiel sighed and turned his eyes away from Dean's piercing stare.  "Meg."

 

\--------

 

Dean tried not to freak out when Castiel started closing off their connection, but it wasn't easy.  Since they'd started having sex they had left themselves more and more open to each other.  They were in constant communication, even when they weren't exchanging actual words, out loud or telepathically.  There were things they still kept private, but for the most part they shared. 

He liked that.  Craved it actually.  And each barrier Castiel put up between them gave him a sense of loss, as if he were homesick.  He should probably be scared that he had become so comfortable with Castiel's presence in his mind, but at the moment he was more focused on what Castiel was trying so hard to hide from him. 

So when Castiel spoke the name, refusing to look at Dean, anxiety spiked through him.  He did nothing to hide it from Castiel.  It was a punishment of sorts, reminding him of how much they usually shared. 

He knew he wasn't going to like the answer to his next question.  "Cas?  Who's Meg?" 

Castiel pressed his lips together, and his shoulders stiffened.  For a moment Dean thought he was going to pull away, but he didn't. 

"Cas?"  When the silence stretched, Dean's fingers tightened. 

Gabriel finally answered for him.  Dean didn’t turn to face him, but the seriousness in his tone sent a chill down Dean’s spine.  "Meg is his wife." 

The words barely had time to sink in for Dean before Castiel straightened and glared at his brother.  "She is not my wife," he snapped.  It was unusual to see Castiel show that much temper, and Dean dropped his hands in surprise, stepping back in the face of Castiel's wrath. 

The word _wife_ bounced around inside his skull, and he took another step back, needing space.  He began building up his own mental barriers in an attempt to hide the storm of emotions the word stirred up inside him.  "You're married?" 

One thing he had never been into was infidelity.  Even picking up chicks in the bar, he avoided the married ones.  He didn't want to be the deciding factor in a divorce. 

Castiel's eyes flashed bright blue, his anger strong enough to pulse through their link despite the walls they both had up.  "No, I am not.  Not anymore." 

"You never really divorced her," Gabriel pointed out.  

"Gabriel, you are not helping," Castiel growled. 

Dean wanted to hit Gabriel.  He wanted to turn around and walk over to the table and knock the other man's teeth out.  But he stood rooted to the spot, staring at Castiel's face.  His eyes glowed so brightly, Dean was surprised the others in the room couldn't see it.  His lips were pressed together, and a muscle in his jaw twitched as he tried to bring his anger under control.  Even now, with having his trust rocked with the revelation that Castiel was married, Dean found him really damn sexy like this. 

"Dean," Castiel bit out.  "Can we talk about this in private?" 

He answered with a nod, and stepped back, giving Castiel room to maneuver around him.  When he turned to follow, Dean avoided looking at the people sitting around the table.  He didn't want to face Sam and Garth's sympathy, or Jo's triumph.  He certainly didn't want to see if Gabriel was smirking. 

So he watched his own feet crossing the hardwood floor until Castiel led him out onto the back porch.  He stopped at the edge, and stared down at the grass, waiting for Castiel to speak. 

"Dean?" Castiel's voice was soft.  Dean couldn't tell if he sounded hopeful or resigned or tired or frustrated.  It was probably a little bit of everything, but Dean wouldn't lower his barriers to find out for sure. 

"Were you ever planning on telling me?" Dean spoke in just above a whisper.  He swallowed and made an effort to strengthen his words.  "Because I'm not going to sugar coat it.  This is a pretty big deal to me, Cas." 

Castiel sighed, and Dean finally looked up at him.  He still had a stubborn set to his expression, and he held Dean's eyes as he spoke.  "Meg and I are no longer married, Dean." 

"But you're not divorced?" Dean prompted.  "How does that work?" 

Castiel chewed his bottom lip, gathering his thoughts. 

Dean suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Castiel had to say, but they had gotten this far already.  He waited with forced patience. 

"Meg and I met when I was a little over two hundred years old," Castiel finally explained.  "She was a white witch, and at first our relationship was purely educational-" 

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. 

Castiel narrowed his eyes warningly.  "You need to understand, Dean.  There are no schools for witches.  No institutions to teach us how to use our powers.  We have to learn from each other.  Meg and I did that for many years before our relationship shifted into something more romantic.  And we spent decades together before we married. 

Afterwards, we spent much time apart.  I liked to settle in one place, grow a garden, and tend to the people of nearby villages.  Meg liked to wander.  She would come back from her journeys with new things she had learned, and she would share them with me."  He paused and smiled, obviously recalling fond memories.  "Our lives were intertwined, but we still had our individual freedom.  We were very happy." 

It surprised Dean that Castiel wasn't bothered that his spouse would sometimes leave him for long stretches at a time.  A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that it meant Castiel would not stop him from going on Hunting trips if they had a more permanent relationship.  He quickly shoved the thought into the imaginary glovebox in his head that held the golden glow he still refused to acknowledge. 

Now Castiel's expression fell, and he scuffed his foot through the grass.  The blades curled around his toes, almost as if they were consciously trying to comfort him.  "At least I was happy.  And I think Meg was happy with me.  But... she had a thirst.  A need for power.  And I did not notice how it changed her." 

Dean's jaw sagged when he realized what Castiel was saying.  "She turned to black magic." 

Castiel nodded.  Pain, a deep-seated heartache, leaked through their link and Dean had to steel himself against going to him and offering comfort.  There was more to this story, and he knew it was only going to get worse.  "Yes, she did." 

They stood in silence, listening to the wind through the leaves and the chirping of the crickets.  The sky had darkened a while ago, and stars were already shining down on them.  The only light in the back yard was from the sliver of moon hanging in the sky and the soft glow of Castiel's eyes.  Dean fidgeted, torn between prompting Castiel to continue and letting him tell his story at his own pace.  It didn't take long for his patience to be rewarded. 

"I don't know why the villagers decided to go on a witch hunt.  I never found out." His eyes came up and Dean couldn't look away from him as he spoke.  "They pulled her out of my garden in the middle of the afternoon.  I was in the village, checking on a pregnant woman who was near her time." 

"If she was so powerful, how did they catch her?" Dean asked in a subdued voice. 

Castiel shrugged.  "Maybe they caught her by surprise.  Maybe they had something similar to your amulet.  I'm not sure."  He looked weighed down by the memories as he continued his story.  "Someone came to warn me.  Despite the fact that I had lived in the village for many years, few suspected me of being a witch.  Maybe it was because I am a man, or maybe they distrusted her more because she came and went so often.  I don't know.  But instead of running away, I went to her." 

He broke off and took a ragged breath.  He looked up at the sky, and Dean could see his adam's apple bob when he swallowed.  "I was too late.  She was already dead when I arrived.  They burned her, and only magic allowed me to identify her body.  The villagers were… celebrating." 

Dean's heart pounded.  He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Castiel, to come home to the burning corpse of his wife and a crowd of people screaming with triumph.  The idea of seeing Castiel like that made his stomach churn, and acid burned in the back of his throat.  "I'm sorry, Cas," he said hoarsely. 

Castiel's chest expanded as he took a deep breath, and he looked down, meeting Dean's eyes.  "Thank you, Dean.  It was a long time ago, but the memory still hurts." 

“So,” Dean said gruffly.  “Till death do you part?  Is that it?” 

“Yes.” 

Dean couldn’t deny that he felt a little relieved to learn that Castiel really wasn’t married.  But anxiety still gripped him, because there had to be something he was missing.  The cryptic argument between Gabriel and Castiel in the kitchen indicated that Castiel was going to ask Meg for help.  But if she was dead… “Cas?  How exactly can you ask Meg for help if she’s dead?” 

Castiel held his gaze, hardly blinking.  “Do you believe in Heaven and Hell, Dean?” 

Dean scoffed.  “Not really, no.” 

“But you believe in monsters, and demons?” 

“Just because there are monsters, that doesn’t mean there’s a Heaven and Hell.”  He knew there was some kind of afterlife.  There were ghosts after all.  But anything beyond that… well, he only believed in what he could see. 

“They’re real, Dean.  And when a black witch dies, they go to Hell.” Castiel was still staring at him, as if he were waiting for Dean to connect some dots. 

He felt like he was missing a few very important dots.  He frowned and shifted uncomfortably.  “Okay, makes sense.  So?” 

“Do you know what demons are?” 

“What the hell, Cas?  We’re not playing Twenty Questions.  Get to the damn point already.”   

Castiel sighed and gave him a disappointed look.  It cut Dean, but he was starting to get pissed, and that only added fuel to the fire. 

"Time in Hell is warped.  A month here, is a decade in Hell.  And when a soul is tortured relentlessly for centuries, they become twisted.  They become evil." Castiel paused, waiting for Dean. 

Meg had gone to Hell, and had been there for hundreds of years in top-side time.  Which meant... 

Rage followed realization and Dean sucked in a sharp breath.  "Tell me you're not planning on summoning a demon." His voice was low, threatening.  "Fucking tell me that, Cas." 

Castiel didn't seem surprised at all by Dean's reaction.  "She can help us, Dean." 

"At what cost?" Dean stepped down into the grass and got right up in Castiel's personal space.  He jabbed his finger into the shorter man's chest, hard enough to bruise anyone without Castiel's healing abilities.  "How is that different than turning to black magic, Cas?  Tell me that." 

Castiel didn't step back, and he didn't flinch under Dean's touch.  He lifted his chin defiantly, and for the first time Dean could see his age in his eyes.  "I won't be using black magic to summon her.  You know it's not the same.  Hunters summon demons all the time.  The spell is neutral." 

"Yeah, okay.  But once you make a deal with her to get her to help you, then your soul is forfeit."  Dean wanted to shake Castiel.  Why would he even risk himself like this?  "You don't have to do this, Cas.  We'll find whatever punk kid is out there planting hex bags.  We just need a little bit of time." 

Castiel shook his head.   "It is not that simple, Dean.  We’ve been working under the assumption that whoever is planting the bags is an amateur, but I don’t think that is the case.  Not with the way they're blocking my ability to find them, and with the weather being forced into an unnatural pattern for more than a year now.  I suspect we're dealing with someone much more powerful, and the hex bags are a screening tactic to keep us busy." 

“Okay, I’ll bite.  Let’s say that’s true.  Why are the hex bags just showing up now, if you think someone’s been futzing with the weather for a while?” Dean demanded. 

“Because I’ve just recently started trying to counter what they’re doing,” Castiel pointed out.  “I could do very little until you started assisting me.  The hex bags started showing up after I managed to pull in a rainstorm, Dean.” 

That sounded completely plausible, which frustrated Dean even more.  He finally stepped away from Castiel, and started pacing through the grass.  He ran both hands through his hair as he thought, digging his nails against his scalp.   

After Castiel had told him about the unusual heat, Dean had done a little research to confirm it.  The state had experienced a dry winter the year before, and an extra hot and dry summer, leaving the whole place a giant tinder box just waiting for a match.  And there were plenty.  Mostly dumbasses not putting out campfires correctly, or throwing lit cigarettes out of moving cars.  Stupid little shit like that.   

There had been reports of forest fires so extensive that ash had begun falling from the sky over different parts of the state.  One had nearly decimated a national park less than a hundred miles south of where they were.  The day Castiel had managed to bring a small rainstorm had been the day the firefighters had finally been able to turn the tide on that particular fire and get it under control. 

"Dean," Castiel said quietly.  "I have to do this.  It's for-" 

Dean cut him off with a sharp hand gesture and a snarl.  "If you say for the 'greater good', so help me Cas, I will kick your ass." 

Castiel pressed his lips together and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.  But his point had been made anyway. 

Dean's chest hurt.  It felt like the weight of every mountain in Utah was sitting on top of him, and he couldn't breath through the pain.  Castiel was going to go darkside.  Yeah, he was doing it for a good reason, but that was a slippery slope.  How long would it be before he became power hungry and evil like most witches?  Like his own wife had? 

He couldn't watch that happen.  He refused to watch Castiel turn into something he hated. 

"If you do this," Dean said, turning to face Castiel with a grim look.  "We're done.  I'm out." 

Castiel's eyes widened, and he went very still.  After a moment his eyes dropped to the ground at his feet, their light dimming.  "Of course, Dean.  After winter solstice, I'll break the curse and-" 

"No, Cas.  After we catch this bastard, I'm out.  Our deal is off." 

When Castiel looked up again, the glow of his eyes was even dimmer.  Dean couldn't sense his emotions because he'd built up his own walls so thick that nothing could break through.  He didn't want Castiel to know how bad he was hurting.  That was not something he would share.  Not with Cas; not with anyone.   

"Dean, if you leave early I will have to wipe your memory of this." Castiel's voice had gone flat and emotionless. 

"Good," Dean snapped.  "I'd rather not remember any of this shit." 

Castiel recoiled, taking several steps back.  "Do you mean that?" 

With every ounce of willpower he had, Dean pulled all of his pain into a tight ball, squeezing it smaller and tighter until it sat like a cold lump under his heart.  The he shoved it into the glovebox with the golden glow, which hadn't dimmed at all to his immense irritation.  Then he lowered the rest of his barriers and let Castiel see his conviction.  "Yeah, Cas.  I mean every fuckin' word." 

He left his barriers wide open, but not once did he feel the brush of Castiel's mind against his own.  That hurt, but he pushed the pain down with the rest of it.  He was getting nothing from Castiel.  Utter silence.  And he knew that was his answer, even before Castiel spoke. 

"So be it." 

Dean had suffered heartbreak more than once in his young life.  He'd lost friends to Hunts.  In a way, he lost Sammy to Stanford.  When he'd left Cassie, he lost a month of his memory to a drunk haze.  The worst had been the loss of his mother shortly after he'd turned sixteen.  In a life as dangerous as theirs, no one was really surprised that a vampire was able to take her down, but it was sudden and painful for everyone who knew her.  

This was on par with losing his mother.  Sharp pain wrapped around his heart, settling into the organ like hot needles.  He slammed his mental walls up.  He wasn't going to share anything with Castiel anymore.  Not his hurt, not his anger.  Nothing.  And he wouldn't leave himself open to feel the other man either. 

Pressing his lips together firmly to keep them from trembling, Dean jerked his chin down once in a curt nod.  "Okay," he managed after a moment.  His eyes burned with unshed tears.  "Okay," he repeated.  "So be it." 

He turned on his heel and went back in the house, so he missed Castiel reaching out to him, then dropping his hand limply at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.


	17. Hey, Clarence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to note here that Dean does not have an anti possession tattoo. He didn't get one in the show until he started dealing with demons on a regular basis, and that was around the age of what, 27? 28? Anyway, I figure since Dean is only 25 here and he mostly deals with witches, it's a thing that hasn't come up for him yet.

As soon as Castiel and Dean went outside, Sam turned to Gabriel.  "What the hell is going on?" 

Gabriel sighed.  Throwing his brother under the bus like that had been cruel, but he knew that the subject of Meg was going to have to come up eventually.  She had a bad habit of popping up to check in on Castiel now and then, and things would have been worse if Dean hadn't been warned up front. 

It didn't surprise him that Castiel hadn't said anything.  Gabriel had a hard time talking about Kali, and while she had turned to black magic centuries ago, she had managed to extend her life and avoid Meg's fate so far.  Telling his Hunter boyfriend that his ex-wife was a demon couldn't be easy.   

So yeah, he was an asshole for forcing Castiel into it the way he did.  But the truth was that they did need Meg's help, and Castiel needed to stop dragging his feet. 

He turned to face Sam, and gave him a weak smile.  There was a possibility that Sam might decide to wash his hands of Gabriel after this as well, and he would regret that.  He'd come to enjoy the young man's company, and not just because he was pretty to look at (damn, he really was).  Sam appreciated his odd humor, and gave as good as he got, and was just generally a good kid. 

It might be better for Sam if Gabriel weren't in his life.  The life of a witch was dangerous for a lot of reasons, and Sam was going to be exposed to many of them just because he knew Castiel and Gabriel, whether he embraced his own magic or not.  But he did need to learn how to use his magic properly, and Gabriel missed having an apprentice.  

He didn't have the energy to answer Sam with his usual teasing misdirection, but he also didn't want to reveal Castiel's secrets in front of two Hunters that he barely knew.  Sam and Dean seemed to trust them, but Gabriel had lived as long as he had because he was cautious.  So he compromised.  "Remember I told you about my ex-wife Kali?" 

Sam frowned hard enough that his eyebrows nearly met.  "Yeah, I remember." 

"Meg's worse." 

Enlightenment made Sam's mouth drop open in an O and he leaned back in his chair, staring worriedly at the back door.  "That's... bad." 

"Wait, so what's going on?" Jo demanded angrily. 

Gabriel turned a stern look on the young woman.  She was cute, if a bit hot-headed, and she had a spine made of steel, because she didn't shrink away from him in the slightest.  She still had a lot of growing up to do, but she'd make a fantastic Hunter.  It was almost a shame she didn't seem to have any magical talent, because she had one hell of a moral compass.  The chances of her turning to black magic were almost non-existent.  

But as much as he liked the kid, now was not a good time for her to be interfering.  "You're going to have to wait and see what Dean wants to tell you, kiddo.  It's not my place." 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Sam put a hand on her arm and shook his head.  She still looked like she wanted to argue, but she sat back with a huff and crossed her arms over her chest.  "I'm getting really pissed about being left in the dark." 

"To be fair," Sam said.  "Dean didn't have to tell you about his deal with Castiel.  We've been pretty open with you." 

That seemed to deflate her, and Gabriel felt another twinge of respect for her.  She had a temper, but she had a brain, and she knew how to use it.  "So what are we going to do?" 

Gabriel knew that whatever happened between Castiel and Dean tonight, they wouldn't be doing anything about the mystery witch until morning.  And he was pretty sure that they were going to need some space after their discussion.  "I think it's time for all little kids to be be in bed." Jo and Garth frowned in confusion, and Gabriel gave them a jaunty smile as he held up his hand, thumb and middle finger pressed together.  "We'll summon you in the morning if we need you." 

He snapped his fingers, and sent them back to their motel room.  Transporting two of them like that was a major drain on his power, and he sagged in his seat. 

"Where did you send them?" Sam asked with only a slight tendril of suspicion in his tone. 

"To their motel."  Gabriel couldn't keep the exhaustion out of his voice, and he smiled when Sam's eyes widened with concern.  "With a little nudge to put them asleep for the rest of the night.  They'll need it." 

"You look like you could use a few hours of sleep yourself," Sam pointed out. 

Gabriel didn't have a power source like Castiel's garden, or a Familiar to help him focus his power so that he could use it more efficiently, and spending the day healing and casting spells on the media crews to keep the story simple enough to avoid a public panic had really taken the piss out of him.  "Yeah," he admitted.  "I really could." He couldn't resist waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Sam.  "Wanna join me?" 

He didn't have the energy for anything sexual, but if Sam was up for it, he'd do his damnedest to get it up for him.  They'd done nothing more than flirt so far, but Gabriel was nothing if not optimistic.

Sam eyed him, disapproval written all over his face.  Then he cast a worried look at the back door again.  "You think it's safe to leave them alone?"  He paused and chewed his lower lip.  "I'd kinda like to make sure Dean is okay..." 

Gabriel did his best to hide his disappointment behind a smile.  "Yeah, they'll be fine."  He heaved himself to his feet and magicked away the dirty dishes.  It was the least he could do for Castiel after getting him in trouble with his boytoy.  "But I understand wanting to check on Dean."  Which he totally did.  He was a brother too, after all.   

He held up his hand again, ready to expend the last of his magic on a trip to his hotel.  But Sam suddenly stood and reached for his wrist.   

"You're too tired for that, Gabe.  I'll drive you." 

Gabriel nodded, pleased.   

They made the trip, mostly in silence.  And there were no words between them when Sam got out of the car, and slipped his hand in Gabriel's.  They walked up to the hotel room together, and Sam stayed without being asked. 

Gabriel kept his mouth shut as Sam stripped down to his boxers, even though he didn’t bother to keep his eyes to himself.  He wasn’t a monk, and Sam was built like an Adonis.  But when he got into bed and Sam crawled in with him, he couldn’t stand the small space Sam had left between them.  He rolled onto his side, and threw an arm over Sam’s waist. 

Sam shifted until he was facing away from Gabriel, but pressed back into him.  “G’night, Gabe.” 

As they curled together on the giant king sized bed with the fluffy comforter pulled over their shoulders, Gabriel smiled to himself.  Getting involved with someone who was going to be his apprentice wasn't the best idea, but he really liked this kid and was glad he seemed eager to stick around.

 

\------

 

Dean rolled and reached for a warm body that wasn't there.  His eyes blinked open, and when he realized he was back on the pull out couch in the living room, the memories of the night before flooded back bringing a mountain of heartache with them.   

With a groan, he shifted onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow.  He was amazed he'd managed to fall asleep at all without the assistance of a bottle of Jack.  Dean would suspect that Castiel had cast a spell on him if he wasn't so familiar with the touch of his magic now that he could recognize it as easily as his voice or his scent.   

He breathed into the pillow, letting himself get light headed from lack of oxygen while he tried very hard not to think about the ultimatum he'd given Castiel the prior evening.  The pain his chest hadn't dulled in the slightest, and in fact only grew stronger every time an image of Castiel's eyes flashed through his mind. 

"Fuck," he mumbled into the pillow.   

He was answered by the ringing of his phone, and he rolled, flailing slightly until he could reach over the edge of the bed and rifle through his jeans pocket.  When he liberated the phone from the folds of denim, he saw that it was Sammy calling him.  His brother had cleared everyone out the night before while he was arguing with Castiel, and just sent him a text saying they'd be back in the morning.

 Well it was definitely morning.  He squinted at the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains as he answered the phone and pressed it against his ear.  "Dude, if you're on the way over, stop somewhere and get me breakfast."  He couldn't stomach the idea of eating anything Castiel would make for him. 

"Dean there's a fire at the hospital.  Gabriel is doing what he can to help put it out, but there are people who need healing, and he's not-" 

Dean was already sitting up and pulling his pants on, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder.  "We'll be there soon, Sammy.  Text me the location, and I'll go wake up Cas.  Are Garth and Jo with you?" 

"Not yet, I called you first." 

"Get them there.  Have them make themselves useful and see if we can find the son of a bitch doing all of this."  He tried to ignore the flare of hope that idea gave him.  If they could just stop this asshole without having to summon a demon for help, maybe then... 

But even if they did find this guy without Meg's help, would Castiel forgive him?  Would Dean forgive Castiel if the issue came up again in the future?   

No, he was just going to have to accept that what he had with Cas had been fun, but it was over.  He'd had his gay experiment, decided it was pretty fuckin' awesome, and now he could move on with the rest of his life.   

He said goodbye to Sam, and made his way up the stairs to Castiel's bedroom.  The door was open a crack, and Dean paused to look through at Castiel's sleeping form.  The ache under his sternum intensified.  He wanted to be in there with him.  He wanted to curl up against Castiel's back and whisper promises that he'd never leave against his skin. 

But he couldn't make that promise.  Not if there was any risk of watching Castiel make a deal with a demon. 

He rapped his knuckles harshly against the wood of the door.  "Cas, there's a fire at the hospital.  Gabe needs your help." 

Castiel shifted onto his back, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  He squinted at Dean, and Dean felt the crack open up in his heart at the sight of Castiel's sleep tousled hair, and the lines across his face where it had been pressed into his pillow.  He was going to leave this behind, and the fact that he wouldn't remember was not a consolation. 

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked, his voice rough from sleep.  He wasn't asking about why Gabe needed help, since Dean had already told him.  He must be asking what was wrong with Dean. 

Dean cleared his own throat and looked away.  He resisted the urge to open his barriers and let Castiel feel him.  They couldn't have that anymore.  "Nothing," he mumbled.  "Come on, let's go." 

He walked away from the door and made his way back downstairs.  He was fully dressed by the time Castiel came down too.  The other man stood in the hall and watched Dean with an unreadable expression, and Dean's skin itched under his scrutiny.  "What?" He snapped. 

"I'm going to summon Meg now.  We don't have any time to waste." 

Dean's shoulders tensed, and he ground his teeth until he could get his anger under control.  "Healing people hurt in a fire is a waste of time?" 

"No, Dean," Castiel admonished.  "But I need to find who is behind this now.  I cannot let them continue to drain me with these distractions." 

It was painfully logical, but Dean couldn't not argue with him.  He flung out a hand in the general direction of the hospital.  "People are dying, Cas!  I thought that mattered to you!" 

The change in Castiel's expression was tiny, but suddenly his eyes were cold, and if Dean had been a lesser man, he would have shrank away in fear.  Only years of discipline, and Hunting some of the scariest creatures on the planet kept his spine straight in the face of Castiel's rage.  "They do matter, Dean.  That's why I'm going to stop whoever is behind it before they can roast this entire state alive." He paused, and some of the chill left his eyes.  "Will you help me?" 

"Isn't Meg going to do that for you?" 

"I'm only going to ask for information, Dean.  Everything else will have to come from me." 

He didn't need to point out that he was exhausted.  Dean could see it in the bruised rings under his eyes, and the way he held himself.  For just a moment, he looked almost fragile, and despite himself, Dean's protective instincts kicked in.  "Yeah, Cas.  I'll help you." 

Castiel's body sagged, and he leaned a palm against the wall to brace himself.  His blue eyes glowed slightly, and his lips turned up in a tired smile.  "Thank you, Dean."

Dean grunted and turned away.  "Alright, so we're gonna summon a demon.  Where do you want to do this?" 

"In my garden," Cas responded.  "I have what I need in the shed.  It will only take a few moments to gather it together." 

Castiel walked past him to do just that, and Dean pulled out his phone and dialed Sam.  His brother wasn't exactly happy with what they were planning, and it took a lot of arguing before Dean was able to convince him to stay at the hospital.  When he hung up, he wasn't completely sure Sam was going to do as he was told.  He just hoped they were done with the demon before Sam showed up. 

He went outside to find Castiel had spread a cloth out on the grass with a brass bowl and several spell ingredients spread around it.  He looked up when Dean opened the door.  "Are you ready?" 

Dean ignored the question, frowning around the back yard.  "Where's the devil's trap going to be?" 

"There is no need for that." 

"Bullshit," Dean barked.  "I don't care if this chick was the Mother Theresa when she was alive.  You don't trust a fucking demon."

"Dean-" 

"No, Cas!"  Dean held his eyes, refusing to back down.  There was no fucking way he would let Castiel go through with the summoning without that small protection.  He didn't know what he would do if Castiel refused, but he'd figure it out if he had to. 

Luckily, he didn't need to.  Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes in obvious annoyance.  "There's a can of spraypaint in the shed.  You can spray a small devil's trap on the patio." 

Dean was too relieved to rub in his triumph.  He just stomped past Castiel to retrieve the paint. 

Once the devil's trap was finished, Dean stood next to Castiel's kneeling form and waited.  Castiel mixed the ingredients for the spell, lit a match as he chanted, and dropped it in the brass bowl. 

The flames flared up high enough that Dean almost reached out to pull Castiel back.  But he restrained himself.  If Cas burned off his eyebrows, it would serve him right. 

At first nothing happened, and Dean began to wonder if Castiel had done something wrong.  But between one blink and the next, there was someone standing in the devil's trap. 

"Y'know, foreplay is much more fun with silk scarves than devil traps." 

The speaker was a small brunette woman with plump lips quirked in a sly smile, and dark eyes that sparkled with mischief.  Her long hair curled around her shoulders, resting against a leather jacket that fit her small, yet curved, form snuggly.  Dean stopped there.  He was _not_ checking out a demon.  He had some standards. 

"Hello, Meg," Castiel said softly.   

Dean cut him a sharp glance at the fondness in Castiel’s tone, but kept his mouth shut for now.  This was not the time for jealousy. 

"Hey, Clarence," Meg said cheerfully.   

Dean _almost_ asked Castiel over their link what was up with “Clarence”, but stopped himself on the cusp of lowering his barriers.  It didn’t matter. 

The demon grinned widely, and looked genuinely happy to see Castiel.  "How long has it been?"  Her eyes took in their surroundings.  "Must have been a while... I don't recognize this garden." 

"I believe it's been about eighty years," Castiel answered. 

Meg's mouth twisted in a moue of regret.  "Sorry, 'bout that.  I'll have to put a reminder on my calendar to visit more often." 

Dean's stomach twisted at the implication that Meg popped in now and again to visit.  He buried the jealousy deep, and stepped forward.  "Alright, enough with the chit chat," he slanted a glare at Castiel.  "We summoned you for a reason." 

Meg turned to look at Dean, and she grinned cheekily.  "Who's your new friend, Clarence?  He's pretty." 

"He's my Familiar."  There was a warning in his tone that Dean didn't understand, but it prevented him from arguing over the possessive wording. 

The demon pouted.  "Damn.  I was going to see if he wanted to play." 

That, Dean understood.  "Not a chance, sister." 

She bared her teeth in something that couldn’t quite be mistaken for a grin.  "Oh, is that how it is?" She looked back at Castiel.  "Banging the Familiar, Castiel?  Do you do it while he's shifted?  That's a kink I never would have pegged you with." 

"Meg..." 

But she wasn't paying attention to him anymore.  She'd turned back to Dean again.  "Good with his mouth, isn't he?" She leaned forward, and spoke in a loud stage whisper.  "Yeah, that thing he does with his tongue?  I taught him that." 

"Meg!" 

She continued to ignore Castiel, straightening and crossing her arms over her chest.  She smirked when Dean built up stronger mental barriers against her so that she couldn't see how she affected him.  "Blocking me just confirms that I'm hitting a nerve, y’know." 

Dean snarled at her, and if it weren't for Castiel's hand on his arm he would have started reciting an exorcism right then and there. 

"Meg, please." Castiel's voice was exasperated.  "I need your help." 

Finally she turned to him, lifting one eyebrow to a sardonic angle.  "Oh yeah?  Is that why you've got me in a devil's trap?" 

Castiel sighed and stepped forward, ignoring Dean's warning growl.  He bent down and scraped at the paint with the knife he'd used to open his palm for the blood required in the summoning spell.  "It wasn't my idea," he said as he straightened before her. 

Now Meg's smile was more genuine.  "Of course it wasn't."  She stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug.   

Seeing Castiel return the hug turned the edges of Dean's vision red, and he didn't realize the low rumbling growl filling his ears was him until Meg released Castiel and looked at him.  "Wow, he's really protective of you, isn't he?" 

Castiel spared him a quick glance over his shoulder, but turned back to Meg immediately.  "Will you help me?" 

Meg shrugged.  "Sure, babe.  What do you need?" 

She waited patiently while Castiel explained the situation to her, casting occasional amused glances Dean's way.  He bared his teeth at her in threat, but she only winked at him.  When Castiel finished, she shrugged with one shoulder.  "Sure, I can help.  Shouldn't be too hard to track them down." 

Dean blinked, stymied.  "Wait, that's it?" 

Meg arched an eyebrow at him again.  "Uh, yeah?" 

"No deal?  You're not asking for anything in return?" Dean ran a hand through his hair, shifting on his feet in agitation. 

"You don't believe I'm doing this out of the kindness of my heart?" The way she widened her eyes and pressed a hand against her chest in exaggerated innocence only enhanced his unease. 

"Do you even have one anymore?" He snapped back. 

"Touche." 

"Dean," Castiel sighed.   

"Cas," Dean returned angrily.  "You can't trust her." 

Meg huffed a low chuckle.  "That's true." 

Castiel tossed her a short glare.  "You're not helping." 

"Never said I'd help with your love life," she shot back with a dark grin. 

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean didn't need their link to sense the exasperation rolling off him in waves.  "Regardless, this is wasting time." 

Meg straightened, and was suddenly all business.  "Alright, sweetcheeks.  I'll go find your bad guys.  Be back in a flash."  Her eyes blinked black, and then she was gone. 

"Fucking demons," Dean muttered under his breath.  He ran both hands over his face, pressing the heels into his eyes and watching the red and black shadows the motion created.  He dropped them and blinked at Castiel, glad that he was blurred for a few seconds.  "Man, we can't trust her." 

Castiel reached out and touched him, "Dean-" 

"Don't!" Dean jerked back, and ignored the guilt curling through him when he saw Castiel's hurt expression.  He sighed and looked away.   

"Of course, Dean." 

He couldn't resist a side-glance at the other man, and it took all his energy to keep from closing the space between them.  He wanted to touch Castiel.  He wanted to sink into the comfort of feeling his skin.  He wanted to open up his barriers again and send him reassurance that everything would be okay.  But he didn't do any of those things, because things were not okay.  Not by a long shot.   

Standing around awkwardly staring at each other wasn't going to get anything done, so Dean mentally snapped himself back into Hunter mode.  "So should we go see about helping our brothers with the hospital fire?  We don't know how long she's going to be gone, right?" 

Castiel's reply was cut off when Meg popped up beside him.  "Miss me already, huh, Dean?" She smirked at him as she spoke, but she didn't wait for him to respond, and her expression became serious when she turned back to Castiel.  "You've got a big problem, Clarence.  You've got a demon infestation." 

Dean snorted, but she ignored him. 

"How many?" Castiel asked. 

"Got one right here," Dean muttered.  He smiled wryly when Castiel flashed him a bright eyed glare. 

"I got a bead on two of them.  Possessing a couple of high school jocks." She grimaced.  "And I think they noticed me.  Sorry." 

Anxiety spiked through Dean.  "What does that mean?" 

Meg turned to him, and her cocky smile returned.  "It means you've got trouble." 

"What kind-" 

"No time for chit chat," she said brightly, interrupting him.  "Gotta go before I get dragged into this." 

And then she was gone.  Dean cursed under his breath.  "Where'd she go, Cas?" 

"Away," Castiel said simply.  He brushed past Dean and strode toward his shed.  "She can't be caught helping us.  If they're more powerful than she is, then she'll have to help them instead."

Dean followed him into the shed and watched him pull down herbs from the bundles hanging from the ceiling.  "Alright, I get that." He didn't really.  He didn't trust her to not throw her lot in with the other two just for kicks.  "So why is she sorry that they saw her?" 

Castiel was pulling leaves out of each little bundle and tossing them into a stone bowl.  It was rough and grey on the outside, and smooth and black on the inside from years of herbs being ground inside it and Dean wondered absently how many hundreds of potions Castiel had made with it.  "They'll have followed her here.  The demons are coming."  He grabbed some jars from the shelf over his workbench and began measuring out things that Dean didn't recognize. 

_Fuck_.  "Fuck." 

Castiel cast him an amused glance.  "Pretty much, yes." 

"I'll call Sam.  Let's get the others here.  They'll-" 

"It's too late, Dean." Castiel interrupted.  And as he spoke the room suddenly went dark despite the fact that the sun was out and the door was wide open to let in light.  Castiel swore under his breath and grabbed something from the shelf before pressing it into Dean's hand.  "Don't lose this.  It'll protect you." 

"From what?" Dean turned over the small circular object and found a charm.  It was a symbol of a pentagram surrounded by flames. 

"Possession." 

Dean stuffed the charm in his pocket, because that was an important thing to have while dealing with demons.  He wanted to ask more questions, but the walls began to shake as if it were in the middle of a tornado, but a look outside showed him that the wind didn't appear to be blowing.  The noise grew louder, and Dean found himself edging closer to Castiel, unconsciously attempting to guard him with his own body. 

All at once the noise and the shaking stopped.  Two figures were silhouetted in the open door of the shed.  Both tall, and stocky like Dean, although he couldn’t see their features with the light behind them, leaving their faces in shadow.   

“Well, well, well,” one of them said in a voice that was rather deep for a teen.  “Looks like we found ourselves a witch to play with.” 

The other teen spoke as well, sounding younger and more like what Dean would expect from a high schooler.  He sounded awed.  “And a Familiar.  It’s been an age since I’ve seen one up close.  I wonder what form it favors?  Something avian, I hope.  I could go for some fried chicken.” 

Despite his earlier reservations, Dean dropped his barriers just enough to speak to Castiel.   _You got a plan?  I really hope you’ve got a plan._  Because one demon was a bitch to take out, but two?  Dean had never heard of a Hunter surviving that. 

Castiel’s lips twitched up in the barest hint of a smile.  “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you won’t be staying for dinner.” 

He grabbed the bowl and flung the contents at the demons, shouting in a language Dean didn’t recognize.  The demons had no time to react, although they both recoiled as the powered concoction coated them. 

One demon, slightly taller than his companion took a step back into the sunlight and Dean could see that the little bastard had acne and braces but he was built like a damn bull under the letterman jacket he was wearing.  “What the hell is-?” 

Before he could finish the sentence his skin started to smoke, and he screamed.  He made a vain attempt to swipe the powder off his skin, but it stuck like glitter.  He screamed again, and black smoke began to leak out of his mouth.  It wasn’t pouring out like it was trying to escape.  It was like tendrils were being pulled out forcefully. 

“Dean!” Castiel shouted as he barrelled toward the second demon.  “Exorcism!” 

Dean started chanting in latin, stumbling over the words as he struggled to remember them.  His voice firmed as the chant came back to him.  He watched Castiel plow into the second demon, pushing him out into the sunlight as well.  It’s skin started smoking like the first one had, and it began to scream. 

Castiel began chanting the exorcism along with Dean, and they watched as the boys collapsed onto the grass, their bodies contorting with seizures.  The black smoke was still trickling out of their mouths and it burned the grass where it touched. 

Castiel stopped chanting, hissing almost as if he could feel the grass burning.  He took a few short panting breaths then started chanting again.  “ _Ergo, draco maiedicte…”_  

Dean stepped up next to him, still unable to resist protecting him.   _“Ut Ecclesiam Tuam Secura, Tibi Facias Libertate Servire, Te Rogamus…”_  

The two boys were laying still now, unconscious, and surrounded by a spreading patch of dead grass.  The black smoke no longer seemed to be leaking from their mouths.  It floated close to the ground like fog, but it moved in sluggish swirls.  One tendril reached out, brushing against Dean’s foot, but it recoiled as if burned. 

In unison Dean and Castiel spoke the last of the exorcism.  “ _Audi nos!”_

A piercing noise filled Dean’s head and he slammed the heels of his hands against his temples, at the same time curling into himself protectively.  The sound was a dying scream, but it was unlike any creature he’d ever heard before.  It was tearing at him, trying to pull apart his mind and his soul with dirty claws and sharp teeth, and he was helpless under the onslaught. 

A warm presence brushed against his mind and he latched onto it, recognizing Castiel.  He curled himself around the other man, aching for the relief he gained from his presence. 

Just as suddenly as the noise started it stopped.  Dean stumbled to his knees, and if there had been anything in his stomach, he would have vomited it up on the dead grass.  He gagged, but nothing came up, causing him to cough painfully.  

A hand stroked across his back and after a moment, Dean was able to focus and look over at Castiel who knelt next to him.  He looked as haggard as Dean felt, so he’d obviously been affected by the… whatever had just happened… as well. 

“What the fuck was that?” Dean managed after a few minutes of sucking air into his lungs. 

“A more effective form of exorcism,” Castiel answered.  He wasn’t looking at Dean, despite the fact that he was still stroking Dean’s shoulders.  His eyes were on the two boys, who Dean could see were both wearing lettermen’s jackets.  Probably a couple of football players by their size.  “It ejects the demon from the host, but weakens it so it cannot escape.  It is one of the few ways to kill a demon permanently.” 

“It felt like it was killing me,” Dean muttered. 

“And it would have if you were a regular human,” Castiel said softly.  “It also took most of my power reserves to protect us from physical harm.  There’s a reason that type of exorcism is not commonly known.” 

“Huh.”  Dean blinked at Castiel, then looked around the yard.  All of the grass was now dead and brown, and the raspberry bush near the back fence appeared to also be dead.  Castiel had obviously been pulling a lot of power from his garden.  He must have been using Dean as well, but he hadn’t noticed because of the brain splitting scream.   

Well that was probably a good reason to not try and find out that spell to share with his Hunter buddies.  Dean nodded at the boys sprawled across the grass.  “How come they’re not dead?” 

“There was a protection woven into the powder.  They’ll wake up in a few minutes with splitting headaches, but they’ll be fine.” 

Dean sat back on his heels, and looked over at Castiel.  He could still feel him, and he knew he should close his barriers back up, but after the mind fuck he’d just experienced he was far too tired.  He would do it later. 

_When it was time to leave._  

Castiel must have caught that thought because his head jerked around and he stared hard at Dean, his eyes glowing softly even in the sunlight.  “Please stay, Dean.” 

Dean wasn’t too exhausted to get up and walk away, so he did.  Slowly building his mental barriers up with each step he took away from the witch kneeling in the grass behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dean is holding a grudge. He's beautiful, not perfect :)


	18. Do Not Allow Me To Forget You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit rushed... I have stuff going on this weekend and I wanted to get this updated sooner rather than later. Sorry if it seems sloppy... I only did one quick read-through.

Castiel knelt in the dead grass for a long time after Dean walked away, shoulders slumped and hands curled on top of his thighs.  The pain of feeling Dean pull away from him, coupled with exhaustion made moving incredibly difficult, and he only did so when the wind picked up and the temperature began to drop. 

Whatever hold the demons had over the weather was gone, and if his senses were reading things correctly, a massive storm was going to come spilling over the mountains by the end of the day.  He almost felt sorry for the meteorologists.  The sudden change in the weather was going to confuse the hell out of them.  

Pulling in a lungful of cool air, and letting it out slowly, Castiel finally found the motivation he needed to get to his feet.  He sighed again when he looked down at the two teenage boys.  They were still asleep, and he had no idea how long that would be for.  He needed to get them home and safe.  Both of those things would take even more power, and Castiel was not looking forward to making the attempt.  He was very tired, and the prospect of going upstairs and curling up in his own bed for a few days was alluring. 

But they were a responsibility he couldn't shirk.  Not if he wanted to prevent something like this from happening again.  He moved to kneel down between the boys.  He held his palm over the taller boy's face and concentrated, pulling power from the life in his garden.  He planted a false memory in the boy's mind, and gave him a healthy dose of fear for the occult just to make sure he didn't get himself wrapped up in something like this again.  And just in case, he also burned a tiny anti-possession symbol into the boy's sternum.  Then he did the same for the other boy. 

The next part of his plan would take a lot more power.  Concentrating hard, and pulling as much magic as he could grasp, he ported them back to their homes.  They would wake up in their own beds, probably confused, but hopefully a little better for the whole experience.  And he knew them now, so he could check up on them occasionally to make sure they didn't get themselves in trouble again. 

When he was finished, every plant in his garden was dead except for the largest cottonwood tree in the far corner.  It was just one more thing that layered pain over his heart.  It would take a year or two for the life in this small plot of land to return, but he wouldn't be there to see it.  There was no way that the recent events in the city wouldn't attract Hunters. 

He needed to be gone before they got there.   

When he finally dragged himself into the house, he looked toward the pull out couch.  The mattress had been put away, the sheets folded neatly and laid across the cushions.  Dean's duffle bag was nowhere to be seen, and the house echoed with an emptiness that it hadn't displayed since before Dean had blustered into his life. 

He hadn't heard the Impala's engine, but he'd been so exhausted and focused on his work in the back yard that he may have missed it.  And he couldn't rely on his protective barrier to notify him if Dean had left either.  He'd lowered it completely when he'd summoned Meg, and he didn't have the energy to put it back up. 

He refused to think about Dean being gone, even though he knew it was true.  Telling himself that Dean would have at least said goodbye helped.  It silenced the urgent alarm in the back of his mind.  Soon he would have to cast the spell that wiped Dean's memory, but he wanted to wait a little longer.  Give Dean a chance to change his mind. 

Climbing the stairs was a monumental task.  Half way up, he stopped and sat down on one of the wooden steps.  He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands.  He was too tired to stop the tears from leaking through his tightly closed lids.  They pooled in his palms and slipped down his wrists in warm, wet trails. 

It was a long time before he was able to generate the energy to stand and drag himself up the stairs.  By then the tears had dried, and he pretended he felt a little better.  After all, Dean wasn't the first lover he'd lost in his lifetime.  He probably wouldn't be the last. 

He repeated the lie to himself as he stripped his clothes off, letting them drop in a pile at his feet.  He crawled onto the mattress, and sprawled out on his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow that Dean had used while they shared the bed.  It still smelled of linen and aftershave, with a slightly musky scent of Dean's sweat.  He breathed it in, attempting to hold as much of Dean within himself as he could before he faced reality. 

Castiel didn't remember falling asleep.  His dreams were hazy, filled with skin and fur and feathers surrounding bright green eyes.   

When the bed dipped, Castiel was pulled from them slowly, his mind and his heart reluctant to let go.  He opened his eyes to find Gabriel sitting on the edge of his mattress.  His brother's expression was grim, and full of sympathy.   

Castiel looked away, noticing that barely any light filtered through the curtains.  He'd slept the day away, but it didn't feel like it would ever be enough.  But the time didn't account for how dark it was.  The windows rattled suddenly with a gust of wind and the patter of raindrops.   

He wouldn't be surprised if the rain turned to snow overnight.  Now that he was awake he could sense the size of the storm, and it was going to be a wild one. 

"What happened at the hospital?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.  His voice sounded as dull and lifeless as he felt. 

Gabriel looked as exhausted as Castiel still felt.  His skin had a greyish tinge and there were dark rings under his golden eyes.  His whole body sagged as if just sitting up straight took more effort than he could afford.  "We got the fire put out.  Never found a hex bag, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was located in one of the areas that burned." 

"And the people?" 

Gabriel sighed.  "There were casualties.  But not as many as there could have been." 

Castiel held Gabriel's golden-eyed stare.  "I am sorry I wasn't there to assist." 

Gabriel shrugged, and a hint of his normal humor shone in his eyes.  "You had your own shitstorm to deal with." 

As he said that, more rain clattered against the windows.   

"Where is everyone else?" Castiel asked dully. 

"Dean showed up at the hospital earlier.  After things began to settle down, he left with Jo and Garth.  They're at their motel as far as I know.  Sam's downstairs." 

That caught Castiel's attention.  "Sam stayed?" 

"He's still my apprentice," Gabriel replied.  One tawny eyebrow went up.  "I take it things with Dean aren't going very well?" 

Castiel suspected Gabriel knew exactly what was going on, but he answered anyway.  "Dean told me that if I summoned Meg, he would leave." 

Gabriel let out a low whistle.  "You told him what you would have to do, right?" 

"Yes." 

“And he’s okay with losing his memories?” 

Castiel turned his attention back to the window.  “He welcomed it.” 

They were silent, Castiel because he had nothing to say, and Gabriel probably because he was trying to be a good brother and not say something that would make it worse.  Castiel appreciated it.  He knew how hard it could be for his brother to keep his mouth shut. 

After a moment, Castiel turned his head on the pillow and looked at his brother, frowning in confusion.  "How are you not completely drained?" 

Gabriel shrugged and grinned.  "I had some help, so I didn't have to do it all on my own." 

Castiel's eyebrows went up in surprise.  "Sam?" 

"The kid's a quick learner.  We're both probably going to sleep like the dead, but I wanted to talk to you first before we crashed on your couch.  I figured you could use the company, so we came here instead of the hotel." 

"Together?" 

"We'll keep our clothes on." 

Castiel forced a smile.  He was happy for his brother, despite the pain splitting his own heart open.  Seeing Sam would be difficult, but he wouldn't be around long.  Gabriel would probably drag him all over the world, and Castiel would be left alone so he could lick his wounds in peace. 

Gabriel patted him on the knee, then got up and left the room.  Castiel wished he had the energy to spare on a spell to open the curtains so he could see the rain.  He could always get up and open them the old fashioned way, but he was too tired for that as well.  Lightning flashed, illuminating the room briefly.  It felt larger than it had before Dean had shared it with him, and he couldn't stand the extra space. 

It took an effort to get out of the bed.  He was still so tired, and his body throbbed in time with his heartbeat.  He felt like he was being pulled into the floor, and walking across the room was almost too much of a struggle.  But there was something inside him, pulling, demanding. 

The contract spell had taken hold, and despite how drained he was, he was being forced to cast the memory spell.  He couldn't do it on his own though.  The exorcism had devoured every last ounce of his power, and then began pulling it from the life around him.  A few hours of sleep had not been enough to restore him to anywhere near his normal levels of power. 

His feet made no sound on the hardwood floor as he made his way down the stairs.  Once at the bottom, Sam saw him from where he was sitting at the table, nursing a mug of steaming tea.  When Castiel swayed on his feet the younger man bounded to his feet and rushed over to steady Castiel with a hand on his elbow, receiving the barest smile for his effort. 

"Are you really going to wipe Dean's memory?" Sam asked.  His voice was gentle, and he kept his hand on Castiel's arm, but did nothing to stop him from walking to the front door.  He kept pace, gently holding him upright. 

"I have to Sam." He would also need to wipe Jo and Garth's memory.  It wasn't part of his contract spell, but it was the same thing he did to any Hunter who found out what he was.  And if either of them tried to talk to Dean about the things he couldn't remember, it could damage Dean's mind, which was a risk Castiel wasn't willing to take.   

He would normally need to wipe Sam's too, but if he was staying with Gabriel as an apprentice, Castiel would need to make an exception for him.  "I am bound to the contract." 

Sam sighed, and followed him out onto the porch.  "Yeah, Gabriel explained."  He looked out into the thickening dark.  The rain was coming down in thick sheets, and it was icy cold.  "Can't you give him more time?  Dean'll come around eventually." 

"I can't wait Sam." The pull inside him to cast the spell was becoming painful.  It felt like a burning under his skin.  Needles in his eyes.  Pressure squeezing his organs.  He only had a few minutes left before the pain became too much for him.  He squinted up at the taller man.  "Will you do something for me?" 

Sam's lips pressed together with disapproval, but he gave a reluctant nod.   

"When I'm rested, I am going to show you how to break Dean's curse.  I want you to do it for him." 

Sam's eyes widened, and his fingers tightened around Castiel's arm.  "You... but... " 

Castiel reached up and gently removed Sam's hand from his arm.  "He is a good man.  He deserves to have the curse lifted." 

He stepped into the rain, leaving Sam in the shelter of the porch's overhang.  The icy water soothed the fire under his skin, but shocked a gasp from him.  He fell to his knees, ignoring how quickly his clothing became soaked, and buried his fingers in the blades of grass, whispering his thanks to the life that was going to power his spell. 

Still he hesitated, hoping beyond hope that Sam was right and Dean would pull up in front of the house in his big black car.  He waited until the contract spell began wrapping it's way around his heart.  The muscle struggled weakly inside his chest, and he gave himself another second before he began to chant. 

The grass around him began to die.

 

\------

 

When Dean had walked away from Castiel that morning, he had been able to resist turning back to him because he had a distraction.  He needed to get to the hospital to check on Sam and the others.  The demons were taken care of, but there was still a disaster happening, and he wasn't going to let himself stop and think about what leaving would mean.   

He'd lost himself in the work that still needed to be done.  The fire had been put out, but there were still patients that needed watching after.  The doctors and nurses were not able to be everywhere, but Jo and Garth pitched in while Sam and Gabriel did what little bit of healing they could.  Dean had left his pendant in Sam's care while he went in search of a hex bag. 

The fact that he was able to control his shift again didn't give him any pleasure.  All of his feelings were shut down, and he worked on auto pilot.  It was only when he finally gave up on finding a hex bag that he let some of his emotions loose, and the first one that clamped down on him was anger. 

Anger that he hadn't found the hex bag.  That people had died because a couple of demons were fucking with Castiel to keep him busy.  Anger that Castiel had summoned a demon. 

Meg had not asked for anything in return, but Dean didn't trust her any further than he could throw her.  And now he could no longer trust Cas. 

When that thought caused pain to bloom inside his chest, he let it fuel the flames of his anger.   

By the time he'd determined that there was nothing more that he could do at the hospital that wouldn't just hinder those already working, he hadn't calmed down in the slightest.  He was so on edge that he snapped at anyone who talked to him. 

He'd ordered Jo and Garth to leave Utah, and gotten in his own car and started driving.  He ignored Sam's phone calls, and floored it.  He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and what he really needed was to find himself a motel and crash for a few hours.  But he had to put space between himself and Castiel.  He had to get away from the feeling of betrayal that was dogging his heels. 

The Impala took the steep climb through the Rockies with ease as he followed I-80 on his way to Wyoming.  Behind him, the sky darkened as a storm crept in, and he sped up trying to avoid it.  At this altitude, rain could easily turn to snow, and he wasn't ready to stop, even for a storm. 

As he drove, his mind ran over his argument with Castiel over and over.  He could understand why Cas wouldn't listen to him on a purely logical level.  Castiel was ancient, and had a lot more experience than Dean.  But Meg was a fucking _demon_ and working with them on any level was too much of a risk. 

He'd hoped that Castiel would at least listen to him because he cared about Dean.  But maybe he didn't care? Maybe Dean had been wrong about what they shared, and all the feelings he'd been trying to hide from himself and Castiel had not been reciprocated. 

It was hard to imagine that Castiel could have fooled him that completely when they were doing the Vulcan mind-meld thing though.  What Dean had felt from Castiel had been pure, and hot, and all encompassing. 

For the first time since Castiel had taught him the trick of creating a safe wall around his thoughts, Dean opened the glove box in his mind and allowed the warm glow that he'd been hiding there to escape.  It settled inside his chest, burning him from the inside out, and humming Castiel's name like a hymn.  He poked at it, trying to pretend he didn't understand what it was. 

"You're thinking awfully hard." 

Dean nearly swerved off the road when Meg appeared in the seat next to him.  With a curse, he corrected the wheel and turned to glare at the demon.  She was slouched down on the seat, knees braced against the dash, grinning at him.  "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?" 

She pouted at him.  "Oh, c'mon Dean-o.  You've been fucking my husband.  The least you could do is be nice to me." 

Jerking his attention back to the road, Dean ground his teeth.  "Till death do you part," he gritted out finally. 

"Um, yeah those are the modern Christian vows.  We're pagans y'know."  She was back to grinning at him, and when she continued it was in a sing-song voice one would usually use to talk to a two year old.  "Did he tell you that our wedding bonds were broken by my death to make you feel better?" 

He kept his mouth shut, refusing to play along with her.  But the idea that Castiel was still married to this bitch only pitched his anger higher. 

When she didn't get a response she shrugged and turned her attention out the front window.  She shifted and braced a foot on the dash.  "Of course, divorce is much simpler for us.  We each declare ourselves not married, and presto!" She snapped her fingers, making Dean flinch.  "Back to swingin' singles.  I haven't said the words, but Clarence has, so we're halfway there." 

"Get your damn foot down," he growled at her.  She complied, but her expression said she was humoring him.  "Answer the damn question.  What the fuck are you doing here?  What do you want?" 

Meg let out a long-suffering sigh.  "I'm here to talk you out of leaving."  She shrugged when he shot her a disbelieving look.  "He likes you.  Probably loves you.  I'd hate to see what a wreck he'll be when you're gone." 

"First of all-" Dean tightened his grip on the wheel, wishing it was her neck.  "Why the hell do you care?  Demons don't have feelings, right?  And second, he should have fucking thought of that before he summoned a god damned demon.  I'm not going to stick around with the kind of monster that I Hunt for a living." 

"First of all-" she mocked.  "Demons totally have feelings, it's just mostly hatred and self-loathing.  Don't be such a bigot.  And second, he has never done a speck of black magic, and I doubt he ever will.  That man is disgustingly pure despite the fact that he likes to take it up the ass." She chuckled, a low husky sound.  "Of course, no one actually goes to hell for being gay.  Christians made that bullshit up too." 

"You are honestly telling me that you wouldn't eventually try for his soul?" Dean demanded.  "I'm sure he's going to run out of freebies eventually." 

Meg was quiet for a long time.  When Dean looked at her, she was staring out the window with a pensive expression.  It was a weird silence, almost comfortable, which was just wrong on so many levels. 

He was about to demand that she get the hell out of his car, even though he had no way to enforce it, when she spoke.  Her voice was soft, and he had to strain to hear her over the roar of the engine.  "I could never hurt him.  They would have to torture me for another thousand lifetimes, and even then..." she trailed off.   

Dean shifted uncomfortably.  This whole thing felt suspiciously like a heart-to-heart, and that was not his bag. 

"I was going to take his soul when I first crawled out of Hell," she continued in a conversational tone.  "I was going to wrap his soul in filth and drag it down to Hell, and I was going to spend at least a thousand years tearing it to shreds.  I blamed him for my death.  He should have been there to stop it.  He should have been the one to die instead of me.  He shouldn't have stuck around in one place for long enough that people got suspicious."  She laughed bitterly.  "I had so many reasons to hate him." 

“So you don’t hate him?” 

Meg shrugged.  “Sure I do.  I hate everyone and everything.” She bared her teeth in a snarl, and her eyes flashed black.  “I want to watch this world burn, and then I want to dance on it’s rotten corpse.” 

She took a deep breath, and her eyes flickered back to normal.  It didn’t do anything to make Dean feel better about her presence in his car.  “But when I came for him, he wasn’t scared of me.  He wrapped his arms around me and he cried into my shoulder and told me how much he loved me and missed me, and how it was his fault and it should have been him instead.  And despite everything that had been done to me in Hell to slice out all of my tender bits, I realized that I still loved the crazy fucker.” 

Dean shot her an incredulous look.  “And that’s it?  You just changed your mind?” 

It was unbelievable.  There was no way a demon could love.  They couldn’t.   

“Actually, I freaked the fuck out.  Loving people sucks.  It’s a tool used against you in Hell, and I wanted no part of it. So, I ran away.”  She laughed, a cold sound that set his teeth on edge.  “Kinda like you’re doing right now.” 

“I am _not-”_  

“Oh get over yourself,” Meg snapped, interrupting his angry tirade before he could really get started.  “Of course you’re terrified.  You two are fucking bonded, and you didn’t even perform the ceremony.” 

Dean whipped his head around so fast to look at her that he felt a muscle pull.   _“What?”_  

“I can see souls, dumbass.”  She pointed a finger at him, and spoke in a sing-song again.  “And you two are bonded.   _Dean and Cas, sitting in a tree.  F-U-C-K-I-N-G… first comes_ -” 

_“Shut up!”_ he thundered.  “Get the fuck out of my car!” 

Meg laughed, and it sounded genuinely joyful.  It took her a moment to calm down and she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes by the time she caught her breath.  “Oh man, this is going to be so entertaining.  Y’know what?  On second thought, don’t go back to him.  Watching you two assholes suffer without each other is going to be the highlight of my century.”  She reached out and patted him on the thigh, ignoring his warning hiss.  “See you around, Dean-o!” 

And then she was gone, and he was left with nothing but the roar of the Impala’s engine, and the echo of Meg’s laughter for company. 

He was so livid that he didn’t even really see the road in front of him.  He didn’t notice that he’d pressed his foot down on the accelerator and the needle was creeping past 120 on the speedometer.   

Bonded?  What the fuck did that mean?  Castiel had talked about it, but he’d said there was a ceremony.  A spell.  Something that finalized it. 

Yeah, he loved Cas, but- 

It hit him like a punch in the gut, then, exactly what that warm glow was that he’d been hiding from himself for so long.  He loved Castiel.  And that scared the _hell_ out of him. 

He was fucking terrified.  Terrified of how much he loved Castiel.  Terrified of not having that love returned.   

Terrified of losing him. 

_Fuck_.   

Dean slammed both feet onto the brake pedal, nearly causing the Impala to spin out.  As he sat behind the wheel, ignoring the honk of other vehicles passing him on the two lane highway, he contemplated what exactly it would mean if he kept going. 

Not only would he lose Castiel, but he would lose _all memory of him._  Every memory of his smiles and laughter.  Every recollection of their debates over the merits (or lack thereof) of the Mad Max movies.  He would never remember driving Castiel around town to run errands, or helping him clean the kitchen after dinner. 

He would never remember his touch.  His scent.  The feel of his soul when they opened themselves to each other.   

A harsh sob caught in Dean’s throat.  He couldn’t do it.  He couldn’t lose that. 

God, he was so fucking _stupid._  

Twisting the steering wheel, he pulled into the median, praying there wasn’t any broken glass in the dirt and scrub that would shred up Baby’s tires.  Then he peeled out onto the road, driving back toward Salt Lake City.  He blew past the speed limit, desperate to get back to Castiel. 

Rain suddenly broke over his windshield, and he swore as his visibility was cut down so much that he had to slow down.  He slammed his palm against the steering wheel in frustration.  “Fuck!” 

He smoothed his palm over the wheel, and muttered “Sorry, Baby.” 

Impatience ate at him.  He was several hours away from Ogden already, and he had no idea how long it would be until Castiel wiped his memory. 

Just as he thought that he felt a strange fog slip over his mind.  He shook his head and rubbed the heel of one hand against his temple.  A wave of dizziness gripped him and he had to slow down even further.   

And then he realized he couldn’t remember the way back to Castiel’s house. 

He grasped at the memory, trying to remember what the neighborhood looked like, but that was fading too, along with his memories of what the inside of the house was like. 

“No.  No no no no!” He shouted.  More was leaving him every moment.  He could feel it, like there was a hole at the base of his mind and the memories were draining out like water out of a leaky bucket.  “No, Cas!  I’m coming back!  Don’t do this!” 

But it didn’t stop.  Desperately, Dean dropped every mental barrier, leaving himself wide open.  In his mind, he reached out for Castiel and screamed as loud as he could, hoping they weren’t too far apart. 

_Castiel!!!_  

And then the fog faded from his mind, and Dean blinked.  He looked around, wondering where the fuck he was.   

In a big fucking storm, that’s where he was.  The rain was coming down in thick sheets, and he slowed the Impala to a crawl.  Damn, he was exhausted.  He’d stop in the next town with a motel and get some shut eye.  Then he’d get himself a map of the area so he could get himself un-lost.   

It took him a while to get the next town.  Rawlins Wyoming didn’t look like much in the dark, but it had a motel, and really that’s all he cared about.  He checked into a room, and was pleased to find that it was clean and the sheets were unstained.  The bathroom was a little creepy, but not Motel 6 creepy, and that was a bonus as far as he was concerned. 

He tossed his duffel on the spare bed, and fell face first onto the one farthest from the door, not even bothering to undress first.  Sleep quickly dragged him under. 

When he woke well into the afternoon the next day, he didn’t feel rested.  Dreams had plagued him, but try as he might, he couldn’t recall them.  He knew only that they had been good dreams.  For some reason the fact that he couldn’t remember made him infinitely sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm kinda sorry for this one.


	19. Missing Someone You Never Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) WEE FOR DRUNK EDITING!!  
> 2) Okay so this is another one of those chapters that I struggled with. I deleted almost 7k words and started over, and OMG IT FELT LIKE SUCH A WASTE OF TIME. I seriously hate wasting words. But these words are much better than the ones I started with *nods*  
> 3 part A) I am super. duper. drunk. Please forgive typos and poor grammar because drunk editing is rarely a good idea :D

"You'd better cut him off," Ellen said as she passed Jo on the way to the back room.  "That boy is going to pickle his liver."

Jo nodded as she approached the end of the bar where Dean sat slumped over a tumbler of bourbon.  He must have suspected he was fast approaching Ellen's tolerance for his binge drinking because he was nursing this one.  He looked up at her blearily when she stopped in front of him, and gave her a baleful look before knocking back the last of his drink and plunking the glass down a little too hard. 

"You here to cut me off?" His words were slightly slurred, and he wasn't quite focusing on her.  Between that, the dark circles under his eyes, and the light beard growing over the hollows of his cheeks, he looked old.   

Dean looked like a man in mourning, and Jo had no idea why.  It had started shortly after they'd all gotten back from Utah, and had gotten progressively worse.  Jo had tried to talk to him, but hadn't been surprised when he'd gotten snappy with her.  Dean wasn't a feelings kind of guy, and he was never inclined to talk about them. 

He wasn't doing a very good job of drowning them, no matter what had caused them.  Instead of going out on hunts, he was parking his ass on the bar stool night after night, but he only seemed to be getting worse every day. 

"Yep," Jo answered him as she pulled out a glass and filled it with water.  She smiled brightly in the face of his glare when she set the glass down on the polished wood surface of the bar in front of him. 

"You're not my mother," he grumbled, but he took the glass and drank.  He grimaced and set it back down, pushing it away even though it was still mostly full. 

Jo pushed it back.  "No, but I'm your friend, and I'd like to make sure you don't end up with alcohol poisoning." She crossed her arms and leaned on the bar so their faces were close.  "And I really don't feel like driving you to the hospital." 

Dean snorted and picked up the glass again, taking a small sip.  His eyes unfocused, and she could see that he'd gone into deep thought again.  He looked... heartbroken.  Lonely.  It reminded her a little of what he'd been like right after his mom had died.  If she didn't know better, she would swear he'd just been dumped or something.   

Well, she didn't know for sure.  But Dean traveled so much, she doubted he'd found anyone special on any of his trips.  He didn't stay in any one place long enough. 

Maybe that was his problem.  He needed to get laid. 

As if he had read her mind, his green eyes suddenly snapped up and he stared at her with a laser focus.  He looked at her with a lot more interest than he'd ever shown her before.  It was a look she'd seen before, but never directed at her.  A shiver went down her spine, and despite herself, she couldn't look away from him. 

"Hey, Jo." 

"Yes, Dean?" 

"You're not jailbait anymore." 

She wrinkled her nose at him.  "Haven't been for a while."   

Dean chuckled, a low sound that made her belly twist.  Man, when Dean decided to flirt, he pulled out the big guns, didn't he?  "Sorry, I haven't noticed." 

She really shouldn't be doing this.  He was wasted, and might get pissed at her for encouraging him.  But she'd harbored a tiny flame for him for so long.... "Are you saying you've noticed now?" 

He stared at her, his eyes heavy lidded, and she felt a little frisson of nerves.  Dean was a lot more experienced than she was and while she was fairly certain she could handle him, he was making her feel a little bit like hunted prey at the moment. 

"That's what I'm saying," he answered in a low voice.   

And then he was leaning forward, across the bar, closing the space between them.  Jo sucked in a breath just before their mouths touched, but she didn't move away.  His hand came up and cupped the back of her head, guiding her to tilt it so that he could deepen the kiss. 

He tasted like the booze he'd been drinking, and he smelled like leather and car and man.  His lips were soft, and his tongue when it flicked against hers was slick and hot and.... 

Nothing.   

Well not exactly nothing.  The whole thing felt wrong.  Like she was kissing... her brother.

Dammit. 

They both broke apart at the same time, and Jo burst into laughter at Dean's expression.  He looked slightly ill.  When she laughed, he glared at her.  

"I'm sorry," she managed to snort out.  "But that was just weird as hell." 

His expression melted into a self deprecating smile, and he began to laugh with her.  "Yeah, it was." 

"Don't ever do that again," she said as she swatted at him with a towel.   

He grinned widely and reached out to ruffle her hair.  "Deal." 

She slapped his hand away, but it wasn't an angry response.  She was actually a little relieved.  She'd harbored such a huge crush on him for so long, even though she'd denied it for the last few years.  Finding out that she really wasn't into him was fantastic.  For the first time, she was finally able to look at him like a friend and a brother.   

"Well if I'm getting cut off, I should get the hell out of here," Dean murmured once his laughter died down.  He stood up, and began to weave dangerously.   

"Whoa, there,"Jo hurried around the bar and slid a shoulder under his arm to hold him upright.  "You are not driving tonight, buddy." 

Despite his complaints, she steered him toward the back of the bar.  Ellen had a cot in the storage room that he could crash on for the evening.  She managed to get him on it, and helped him wrestle off his jacket and his boots before she confiscated his keys.  She wouldn't risk him trying to sneak out before he'd sobered up. 

When he grumbled up at her, she just grinned and shoved the keys in her pocket.  "Sleep tight, Dean-o." 

She chuckled when he flipped her off, but he was already mostly asleep.  She threw a blanket over him, and made her way back to the front of the bar.  Just before she left the store room, she heard him speak. 

"God, Jo.  I miss him so much." 

Jo turned in the doorway and frowned at him.  She'd never heard Dean speak like that about anyone.  She thought for just a moment he might be talking about Sam, because Dean always missed his brother.  But there was something about his tone... something... well, _not_ brotherly.  "Who, Dean?" 

"I don't know," he mumbled.  He had rolled onto his side and his face was half buried in the flattened pillow.  " _I don't know."_  

There was so much pain in those words that Jo actually got tears in her eyes.  She was going to question him further, but a soft snore drifted from his direction and she knew he was out for the night.  So she flipped off the light, and left the room. 

The bar was about ready to close for the night, so she started working on putting things back in their place, and clearing out the till.  But her actions were slow, and distracted. 

Who was Dean talking about?  Why did he sound so fucking heart broken? 

As she zipped up the cash bag, she decided to call Sam.  Maybe he knew something about how to help Dean out of his funk. 

It was really late by the time she finished helping get the bar closed up, but she still picked up the phone and called Sam.  If he didn’t answer, she’d leave a message, and if he answered- 

“H’lo?” 

Well he answered, so he was going to get an earful.  “Sam, it’s Jo.  We’ve gotta talk about Dean.” 

There was a rustle, and avoice - a very _male_ voice - in the background.  Jo’s eyes widened when Sam murmured for the person to go back to sleep.  She hadn’t known he swung that way.  Then he was speaking to her, sounding more awake.  “Okay, Jo, I’m listening.  What’s up?”

 

\-----

 

The animal that had crawled into Dean's mouth and died must have rolled around in dog shit first.  Dean smacked his lips together, trying to clear the nasty taste out of his mouth, but gave up almost instantly.  He was going to need a drink to kill the germs.   

Luckily for him, he was still at the bar. 

He rolled off the cot, and landed on his hands and knees on the dusty wood floor.  A wave of nausea accompanied the pounding in his head, and he groaned.  He held himself still, taking long deep breaths through his nose until the nausea receded enough for him to brave moving.   

He only made it as far as sitting back on his heels when his phone rang.  It took him a moment to fumble it out of his pocket, and he didn't even bother looking to see who had called him before sliding his thumb across the screen and slapping it up against his ear.  "Yeah, what?" 

"Whoa, Dean.  You sound like cold shit."  Sam sounded way too cheerful for Dean's peace of mind. 

Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, trying to rub away the pounding behind them.  "Is that worse or better than warm shit?" He managed to grind out between clenched teeth. 

Sam's laugh sent a jolt of pain through his temples, but Dean couldn't help smiling in return, even if it was more of a grimace.  "I'll let you decide.  Dude, it's Wednesday.  Why are you hung over?"

Dean grunted, and pushed himself back up onto the cot since the floor was killing his knees.  He braced his elbow on his knee and rested his head in his hand.  "Not all of us have fancy ass lawyer classes first thing in the morning," he pointed out.   

"Jo told me you seem to be pretty down lately." 

Dean bared his teeth and barely stifled a growl.  Damn Jo.  Damn her for noticing, and damn her for calling Sam to tattle on him.  

'Pretty down' didn't come anywhere close to what he was feeling.  Since he'd come home from that witch hunt in Utah, he'd felt like there was an emptiness inside him.  It was like something was missing - or _someone_ , a voice in the back of his mind whispered - and the longer it was gone, the more the pit grew.   

He had no idea why, but he felt as if part of his soul was dying.   

He'd tried drowning the feeling, but no matter how drunk he got, he couldn't block out the feeling.  But that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it.  Especially not hungover.

"I'm fine," he grumbled. 

"You're full of crap.  But I have some news that I think will make you feel better." 

"You cut your hair?" 

"Har har," Sam responded dryly. 

That was enough to bring a real smile to Dean's lips.  Teasing Sammy always made his day brighter.  "Alright, so hit me with this news." 

"I can break your curse." 

Dean went still.  "What?" 

"I found out how to break your curse.  I figured out what I did wrong when I cast the spell originally, and now that I know that, I know how to reverse it." 

Sam's excitement was palpable, but he'd told Dean he thought he had a cure several times over the last decade.  "How do you know?" Dean asked gruffly. 

"So get this," Sam said in his _I’m a giant excited puppy and you should be excited too!_ voice.  "I was using a modern dialect of the language, which is what fucked things up in the first place." 

Dean frowned.  "That makes a difference?" 

"A pretty big one, apparently." 

"And you're just figuring this out now?" Dean rubbed a hand over his face.  He wanted to hope.  He wanted to trust that Sam really knew what he was doing this time.  But he'd been disappointed before, and he wasn't really in the right mind space to share his brother's excitement.  "How come Bobby couldn't figure that out?" 

Other than an actual witch, Bobby was the best person to ask about magic.  He'd been studying it for a long time so he could help Hunters with his knowledge. 

Sam cleared his throat.  He sounded nervous.  "Uh, I don’t know."

"Sammy," Dean sighed.  "Are you sure-?" 

Sam cut him off, his voice urgent.  "Dean, I know this is going to work.  In fact, I'm so sure, that I'm already on my way there.  Well sort of.  I’ve got a plane ticket and my flight leaves in a few hours.  I should be there this afternoon." 

"What about school?" Dean asked.  He was glad that he was getting a chance to see his little brother, but he knew what college meant to him.   

"This is more important, Dean." 

That made a little bit of the empty ache in Dean's chest ease, and he smiled into the phone.  His voice was gruffer than he would have liked when he spoke, but if Sam mentioned it, he'd blame it on an upset stomach.  "Thanks, Sammy." 

"You're welcome." 

They were silent for a moment, and they were leaning dangerously far into a chick flick moment, so Dean coughed to clear the lump in his throat.  "So, uh... I'll see you soon then." 

"Yeah, Dean."  Dean could picture the soft puppy dog eyes he'd be getting just from Sam's tone.  "I'll be there soon." 

Dean hung up the phone, and stared down at the minutes blinking on his screen.  Sam sounded pretty fucking sure this time, but it wasn't quite enough to get Dean's hopes up.  He pressed the edge of his phone against his forehead and attempted to breath through the pounding in his head.  

Fuck, he needed another drink.

 

\-----

 

After ten long years, Sam was finally going to break Dean’s curse. 

Gathering the ingredients for the spell that had cursed Dean a decade ago had been an adventure.  Gathering the ingredients for the spell that would break that curse was incredibly mundane.  Rather like grocery shopping. 

The list was almost exactly the same as last time.  He still needed nutmeg and coriander.  Castiel provided the fluxweed and jewelweed this time, and he also had the powdered ajoite crystal and a fragile wand made out of pink kunzite that was needed to draw the symbols.   

Sam hadn’t been surprised at all when Gabriel had brought him phoenix tears and skinwalker sweat, but he hadn’t dared ask where it had been obtained.  Gabriel looked way too pleased with himself, and Sam had learned that it was sometimes best not to ask.   

He still had his flawless amber that had taken such an effort to get when he was a kid.  He kept it wrapped in silk cloth and packed away in a small wooden box.  When he’d moved into his dorm at Stanford he’d takenit with him, and of course he brought it with him when he’d come to rescue Dean a few weeks before.  He’d never liked being without it, although he’d never understood why. 

Now that he was learning witchcraft, he understood that it was because he was able to pull energy from gems and semi-precious stones.  It was similar to what Castiel did, by pulling power from the plants around him.  But Sam did best with gems and fossils. 

“You’re going to be expensive,” Gabriel had teased as he rolled the amber sphere between his fingers.  His own powers were enhanced by sugar, of all things, which explained why he was constantly eating candy and sweets.  That in turn explained how he didn’t get fat with the way he packed away the junk food, the lucky bastard. 

Sam snorted at the memory.  Gabriel insisted on providing everything he needed, although Sam insisted he didn’t need much.  The witch just waved away his protests with an offhand order to “think of it like a scholarship” and had promptly started plying him with different kinds of gems to find which ones he resonated best with. 

He also paid for Sam’s rental car to visit Dean.  Sam had told Dean that he was flying out, but he didn’t actually need to.  That was just a little white lie to hide the fact that Sam was now essentially a witch.  He’d learned Gabriel’s teleportation spell pretty quickly, but he did need to keep up appearances, hence the lie and the rental car.  As far as his family knew, he was still going to Stanford.  And Gabriel was paying for his campus dorm and keeping his name and grades in the books, just in case anyone decided to check. 

Sam didn’t ask how Gabriel could afford it.  Just because the guy didn’t use black magic, that didn’t mean he was averse to bending rules when it suited him. 

He was packing the last of the spell ingredients when Castiel knocked on the guest bedroom door.  They had just helped Cas relocate to a new home closer to Salt Lake City, and it was a much bigger house than the one he'd had in Ogden, with a whole basement apartment.  He'd needed the extra room because Gabriel had insisted on staying with him until he recovered from the ordeal with the demons.   

Castiel still looked pale and haggard when Sam looked up at him.  He insisted he was getting better, but Sam knew there was something wrong.  He had only been staying with him for a few weeks, but Sam was typically pretty good at judging people, and he knew Castiel's assurances were lies.  Especially since Gabriel was so worried about him. 

Gabriel was good at hiding his concerns behind flippant jokes and adolescent humor, but Sam had caught him watching his brother with fear when he didn't think anyone was paying attention to him.   

And Sam could understand why he was so worried.  When Sam invited Castiel in, the other man shuffled weakly and settled himself on the bed next to Sam's bag.  He moved like an old man, as if every joint ached with pain.  And he was so quiet, like a ghost in his own home. 

It was starting to scare Sam a little bit too. 

"You have everything you need?" Castiel asked.  His voice was even more graveled than usual.   

"Yeah, I've got it," Sam answered as he zipped up the duffel.  "Thank you again for letting me do this." 

Castiel's mouth twisted up in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.  "Dean deserves this." 

Sam stared at Castiel for a moment.  They didn't speak much about Dean, mostly because Gabriel had asked him not to.  But Sam had come to consider Castiel a friend, and it was becoming obvious that the separation was hindering Castiel's recovery.  Sam didn't know if it was because of their link or if it was something else, but he couldn't just keep silent on the matter anymore.   

"I get why you had to erase Dean's memory," he said carefully.  "But I don't get why you can't go to him now.  You could break the curse for him and-" 

He stopped when Castiel reached out and put a hand on his arm.  Castiel peered up at him with sad blue eyes, and Sam ached for him. 

"No, Sam." Castiel let his hand slip away, and he turned his intense stare to the nearby window where snow was still settled in the well around it.  After the unnatural summer had ended, winter had come early, skipping autumn altogether.  "Dean no longer trusts me."

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dean's a dick, but he'll get over it." He paused, considering the broken looking man before him.  It probably wasn’t his place to assume to know Dean's feelings, but he couldn't leave this alone now that he'd started it.  "I'm pretty sure he loves you Cas." 

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. "No. I touched his mind. I would have felt it." 

Well there wasn't much Sam could say to that. He sighed and dropped the subject.  He checked one more time to make sure he had everything he needed. 

Castiel followed him out of the room and upstairs.  Sam paused just inside the door and looked at Castiel again.  "You gonna be okay, Cas?" 

He received another lifeless smile. "Gabriel will take care of me.” 

That wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it.  But Sam didn’t push anymore.  Castiel didn’t look strong enough to handle it.   

Instead, he slung his bag over his shoulder, and leaned in to hug Castiel.  The other stiffened in his arms, and Sam chuckled.  “This is the part where you hug me back.” 

Slowly, Castiel’s arms came up and wrapped around him.  The hug was loose at first, but then Castiel gripped him tight and pressed his face into Sam’s shoulder.  “Make sure he’s okay,” Castiel said quietly, his words muffled against Sam’s coat. 

“I will,” Sam answered, giving one last squeeze before he stood back.  He slapped Castiel lightly on the shoulder and smiled at the wide-eyed witch.  “I’ll see you soon.” 

Gabriel materialized at his elbow, and leaned into his side.  “Quit hitting on my brother and give me a proper goodbye.”  He held his arms out wide, an expectant grin plastered across his features. 

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes at the shorter man.  But he leaned in for a hug, and when Gabriel pressed a kiss against his lips, Sam pulled him a little closer and deepened the kiss. 

It probably wasn’t smart to sleep with Gabriel, since they had that whole teacher/student thing going on, but Sam really couldn’t give a shit.  He hadn’t expected to fall for the snarky jack-ass, but it had happened, and he wasn’t going to let a good relationship slip through his fingers. 

Unlike his idiot brother. 

If it weren’t for the fact that Castiel had warned him what kind of damage he could do to Dean by trying to make him remember the things that had been erased, Sam would definitely give his brother a piece of his mind.  Dean had something good with Cas, and he’d fucked it up royally. 

Gabriel finally let him go, and Sam grinned down at him.  “I’ll see you in a few days.” 

And then he took a step back, focused his concentration, and whispered a spell.  The world twisted crazily around him for a few seconds, and then he was standing on the side of the road, about a mile outside of the town where he would pick up his rental car. 

He grinned to himself, as he started walking.  That was a really fun spell.

 

\-----

 

Castiel made his way slowly back to his room after Sam left, ignoring the worried look Gabriel was trying to hide from him.  He appreciated his brother for sticking around to take care of him, but he wished Gabriel would just give up and go already.  Being around Sam and Gabriel and seeing how close they were becoming was painful, and Castiel just wanted some space to himself. 

He needed some peace and quiet, and days and days of sleep. 

Sleep was his goal now, as he shuffled into his bedroom and shut the door behind him.  The blankets were rumpled because he spent most of his time in bed these days and never bothered to make it.   

He was very tired.  If it hadn’t been for Sam and Gabriel, he wouldn’t have been able to relocate to this new house.  They had done all the work, which he had wanted to protest, but he was smart enough to know his limits.   

Crawling into the bed and pulling the blankets over his shoulders again, Castiel found himself wishing they had obtained a new bed for him.  This one was still comfortable, but his imagination kept supplying him with images of Dean sprawled across it, and sometimes when he pressed his face into the bedding he could smell the other man, even though everything had been washed more than once since Dean had left.   

He buried his face in his pillow and inhaled, hoping to catch the scent again, but all he got was lavender and linen.  Tears burned in his eyes and he curled tight into himself.  He'd already cried several times over losing Dean, but apparently he wasn't finished. 

He'd lost people before.  Meg's death had been the most painful because it had been so sudden and violent.  But he'd had other wives, and even a husband.  He'd even had a child once.  A beautiful daughter with golden hair and a sunny smile named Claire.  Watching her grow old and die because she hadn't inherited his magic had caused decades of anguish.  Because of that he had separated himself from his grandchildren, and was careful to never sire more children so he wouldn't have to live through that again. 

Sometimes longevity was it's own curse.  

Unlike most witches, he wasn't doing it on purpose.  His life was intrinsically tied to the earth, and the magic of life around him kept him young and healthy.  He had no idea how long his life would last, and there had been times when he'd wished that he could age like everyone else. 

But there was something wrong with him now.  There was a pit of emptiness inside him, and even though he could feel power filling him from the dormant plants and trees surrounding his new home, it felt like the hole inside him was sucking it down, along with his own soul.  He suspected it had something to do with his link with Dean, but since he had never had a Familiar before, he had no idea whether this was something that would heal over time, or if it would continue to grow worse. 

Not for the first time he wondered how breaking Dean's curse would affect their link.   

He was about to doze off, when the edge of the bed sagged under someone's weight.  Castiel hadn't heard the door open, but he had been rather preoccupied with his own misery.  "Go away, Gabriel," he muttered.  "I just want to sleep." 

"Guess again, Clarence." 

At the sound of Meg's voice, Castiel shoved the quilt down and sat up.  "Hello Meg." 

She looked as beautiful as ever.  The vessel she'd found for herself didn't look anything like her original form, but the first time she'd appeared to him as this short, curly haired brunette with dark eyes and plump lips, he'd known it was her.  He could see the woman he’d loved in the way her eyes constantly sparkled with sly humor, and her lips twisted into familiar smiles.  He had often wondered about the life of the young woman that Meg had taken over, and he hoped she wasn't suffering.  But a small part of him was also thankful to her because she allowed him to have this connection with Meg. 

"You look like Hell, Clarence," Meg said, leaning forward to touch his cheek.   

He didn't question the nickname anymore.  She'd started using after seeing a Christmas movie that he'd never found particularly interesting, and he hadn't argued with her over it.  It's not like protesting would actually get her to stop using the name. 

"Thank you, Meg," he responded dryly as he laid back down.  He pulled the blanket up over his head; it was childish, but he hoped it would be enough to make her go away.  "It's good to have confirmation that my mirror isn't lying to me." 

She was silent for a moment before she shifted and laid down on top of the blankets next to him.  "You're not recharging your batteries as quick as you should be," she pointed out.   

He uncovered his head and glared at her.  "Why are you here?"  It wasn't completely unusual for her to pop in for a visit now and then, but he really didn't want the company right now. 

To his surprise, the nearly permanent smirk that she wore faded, and she gave him a serious look.  "I'm worried about you, Castiel.  You're more sick than I think you realize." 

Her words confirmed his suspicions and he sighed.  "It's because of Dean, isn't it?" 

She nodded, the curls of her hair shifting lightly against the pillow with her movement.  "You bonded him." 

That sent a jolt through him.  "No, I didn't." 

The full bonding required a spell, and a ceremony similar to a wedding.  It twined the Witch and the Familiar's souls for all eternity.  Their lives would be bound so closely that when one died, the other would follow immediately.  It was a step that very few witches took even if they did find a Familiar.  Not very many people were willing to make that kind of commitment. 

Meg scoffed, and sat back up, curling her legs under her and leaning over him in the bed.  "I can see your souls, remember?  I can see the bond." 

"But the spell..." Castiel sat up to face her.  "There's a ceremony, and-" 

"And it's all a bunch of bullshit," Meg cut in.   

Castiel glared at her.  "How do you know?  You have never had a Familiar." 

She grinned at him.  "Neither have you.  But you've got one now."  She reached forward and poked him in the chest.  "And you know as well as I do that magic has a mind of it's own sometimes." 

He rubbed the spot where she'd poked him.  Not because it hurt, but because the ache in his chest was getting harder and harder to ignore.  She was right of course.  One of the reasons magic was so dangerous is because it did sometimes do the unexpected, even for those who were well trained and had a lifetime of experience. 

"It doesn't matter," he said after a moment.  "When Dean's curse is broken, the bond will probably break." 

"You don't really want that, do you?" 

No.  No he didn't.  The idea of never communing with Dean mind to mind ever again made him physically ill.  Nausea swept through him, and he swallowed thickly.  He couldn't meet Meg's eyes, because he didn't want her to see how much the idea affected him.   

"It doesn't matter," he said after a moment.  "Even if Dean did want to come back to me, he'd still want the curse broken.  And I would do it for him." 

Meg made a little humming noise in the back of her throat.  When Castiel cast a quick glance in her direction, she was looking off into the distance, chewing her bottom lip as she thought.  He couldn't help smiling at the familiar action.  No matter what vessel she took, that was a mannerism she always had. 

Suddenly she fixed him with an intense stare.  "Would he still make you happy if he wasn't a Familiar?" 

Castiel saw no reason to lie.  "I love him, Meg." 

As much as he would miss their mental connection, having Dean in his life would be worth losing it.  He knew that for the truth. 

"Like you love me?" There was a dangerous edge to her voice. 

Castiel smiled gently and reached out to take one of her hands between his own.  "You'll always have a special place in my heart. Not even Dean can take your place." 

Tension drained from her and she gave him a tiny smile. "I wish I'd made different decisions," she said softly.  Her expression hardened. "If you tell anyone that, I will stick hellhounds on you." 

“Tell anyone what?” 

She chuckled at him for playing stupid.  Then she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.  He blinked at her in surprise, and she wrinkled her nose at him for it.  “I’m going to have to do something nice for you.” 

Castiel raised an eyebrow at her.  They were friends, but she was still a demon.  He knew better than to trust her completely.  “And why would you do that?” 

“Because I’m a sentimental idiot.”  She bounced up off the bed and straightened the short leather jacket that hugged her curves.  Then she grinned at him, all teeth and no humor.  “So you’d better not summon me for anymore favors for a long fuckin’ time.  You got that?” 

Castiel nodded vaguely, still trying to understand what was going on.  “What are you going to do, Meg?” 

She bent forward far enough to pat him roughly on the cheek.  “Don’t you worry, about it Clarence.” 

Between one blink and the next, she was gone. 

Castiel’s stomach did a little flip, and he didn’t know if it was from worry, or anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 part B) I ship DeanJo and Megstiel hardcore, yo.


	20. A Profound Bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so in canon The Roadhouse is in Nebraska. Well screw canon. Let's just pretend The Roadhouse a half hour drive from Bobby's instead :D

Love was fear and guilt, pain and suffering. It was the last thing they burned out of you in Hell because it was one of the best tools to use against you. And when it was gone, the gaping holes left in your soul were cauterized to prevent it from growing back. 

But they didn’t want you to forget it.  Oh no.  Just because they shredded the ability to feel it out of you, that didn’t mean they allowed you to lose any memories of what it was.   

Meg sometimes thought they missed a piece of her heart when they cut it out a tiny sliver at a time.  There must be some reason she cared whether Castiel was happy or not.  She shouldn't care.  She should just forget this whole endeavor, stick a screwdriver through his eye and watch him twitch while his magic tried to heal him, and have a good laugh over the whole thing. 

But she wasn't going to do that.  She was going to do something completely stupid. 

_Ah, love,_ she thought bitterly.   _What a crock of shit._   

 

\----

 

Dean had to lay off the booze, especially since Ellen was starting to give him the stink eye.  But with the hangover he was sporting, a little hair off the dog was needed.  And a beer couldn't be that bad, right? 

Besides, if he drank in the Roadhouse, someone would cut him off before he got sloppy drunk like he had last night.  That was a good enough justification in his mind. 

He was dead wrong according to Jo.  She let him have one measly beer before putting him to work.  He wasn't really in good enough condition for it, but once he got started sweeping up the main room, and cleaning the - ugh, gross - bathrooms, his pounding headache began to fade.   

Keeping busy also had the side effect of distracting him from the ache in his chest, although not completely.  He was wiping down tables that probably didn't need it when a wave of loneliness washed over him.  He stopped, straightening, and rubbing at his sternum, and wondered if it was late enough in the day to talk Jo into giving him a shot of something stronger than beer. 

"Heartburn's a bitch, ain't it?" 

Dean spun, one hand going for the knife he had tucked away at his back.  He coughed to hide the aborted movement and smiled stiffly at the woman who'd managed to get in the door without him hearing her.  Damn hangover was making him lax.  "Yeah," he answered gruffly when he realized she was waiting for a response.   

Her plump lips quirked up in a smile that hinted she knew he was lying, but she didn't bring it up.  She flipped her dark curly hair over her shoulder and looked around.  "So are you open?" 

Technically the Roadhouse had been open for a few hours, but it was empty at the moment.  Typically patrons wouldn't start showing up for another few hours.  Ellen had gone into town to pick up some supplies, and Jo was somewhere in the back, probably doing inventory.  "Yeah, we're open.  We just don't get a lot of people in here this early in the day." 

"Oh good, then I won't have to wait for service."  This time she grinned at him, and he was hit with a wave of deja vu.  A sharp pain bloomed behind his eyes, and he lifted his hand up to cradle the side of his head.  Damn, he really shouldn't have drank so much last night. 

She gave him a cheshire smile and sauntered closer, right into his personal space bubble.  "Headache, Dean-o?  Probably ought to stop thinking so hard." 

Dean refused to lean back despite the sudden chill that ran down his spine.  "Do I know you?" 

Her lips turned down in an exaggerated pout.  Long thin fingers, the nails nicely manicured, came up to trail over his forearm.  "Damn, he really did a number on your memory, didn't he?" 

Now Dean stepped back.  The sense of deja vu was creeping up on him again, and the headache was getting worse.  His hand crept toward the dagger at his back.  "Who?" 

"Ah ah, now, none of that." She snapped her fingers and his arm jerked back down to his side. 

Dean's muscles twitched and jumped, but he was held in place by an invisible force.  He glared at her, and his words were dripping with threat when he spoke.  "Who the fuck are you?" 

Her grin was all teeth and malice.  She blinked, and his heart sped up when she stared up at him with pitch black eyes.  Another blink, and her eyes had gone back to a perfectly normal dark brown, but she nodded approval when she saw he'd gotten the message.  "I'm a friend." 

"I don't make friends with demons," Dean gritted out.   

She chuckled, and it was a soft, husky sound.  It would have been attractive coming from a human, but instead it just made his stomach roll with revulsion.  "Oh, Dean.  You'd be surprised."  She tilted her head playfully and stepped up close to him again.  "Although you're right.  We're not friends.  But you're banging my husband, so I'd say that at least makes us a little more than acquaintances." 

Dean frowned.  Husband?  But he'd never been with a man before- 

Pain stabbed through his temples and if her power had not been holding him in place he would have collapsed forward.  He couldn't hold back the small cry of pain and it made him sick that he showed any weakness in front of her.  He panted through the throbbing in his head until it cleared enough that he could speak.  "What the fuck are you doing to me?" 

"I'm not doing that, Dean, you are."  She reached up and poked him in the forehead with one finger, the nail digging into his skin painfully.  "You're poking at a wall in there that's still got a fresh paint sign hanging from it." 

He tried to jerk back from her touch, but was only able to twitch slightly.  "Lady, you better start making some fucking sense." 

She laughed again.  "But that's no fun.  I'm here to do you a favor, but I _am_ a demon, and watching you suffer is really doing it for me right now." 

Her attention was caught by the sound of a door opening in the back of the bar, and she pouted.  "But I guess I'd better cut this short." She looked back up at him and poked him in the forehead again.  "Remember two things for me, handsome.  Remember Castiel." 

The pain spiked again, and he bit down on his lip hard enough that he tasted blood.  He felt something in his mind crack, but he shied away from it immediately.  The pain in his head receded when he retreated from whatever it was, and he was able to think clearly again. 

The woman was watching him with fascination, and he glared at her for enjoying his pain.  "You said two things?" 

Her eyes sparkled with humor.  She leaned forward, coming up on her toes until their mouths were close enough that he could smell her breath.  He expected sulfur or old blood, but she smelled like peanut butter, which was, yeah, pretty fucking weird.  She stopped just short of touching him, but he refused to acknowledge the fact that he was relieved.  "I am no longer married." 

When she plopped back down on her heels, all he could do was stare at her.  What the fuck was that suppose to mean? 

Before he could ask though, she raised her hands and wiggled her fingers.  "Don't waste the opportunity, Dean-o!" 

And then she was gone, and the invisible bonds around him fell free.  He nearly collapsed with relief, only catching himself with a hand on the nearest table.  "What the actual fuck?" He growled.   

The door to Ash's "office" swung open, and Dr. Badass himself walked out, looking stoned out of his mind.  "Hey, Dean-o?  What's happenin' man?" 

Dean shuddered at the nickname, and turned to glare at Ash.  "Ellen needs to demon proof this damn place." 

Ash's eyebrows crawled up toward his hairline, and he suddenly looked a lot more alert.  "You sayin' we got a demon problem?" At Dean's nod, his shoulders sagged slightly.  "Well, fuck." 

"Yeah," Dean agreed.  "Get the spray paint."

By the time Dean and Ash had warded the Roadhouse, it was late afternoon and Dean had to get his ass to Bobby's.  Sam should be showing up any minute now, and Dean didn't want to delay anything. 

As he drove towards the old salvage yard, he had to concentrate hard to stay on the road.  Every time he thought about that damned demon, his head would start to ache.  It felt like his brain was too big for his skull, and it was trying to grow it's way out of his ears.  There was a pressure in his mind, and it was looking for a way out.   

The only way he could get the headache to recede was to avoid thinking about her or anything she’d said.  So he pushed the whole incident to the back of his mind and focused on thoughts about Sam and the spell he would be doing to break Dean's curse.  He was sure the demon would show up again eventually, and he could deal with that bitch later. 

Reluctant anticipation flooded his veins with adrenaline.  Even though he didn't want to get his hopes up, he couldn't help himself.  He was finally going to be cured, and he could finally be a normal human again. 

A pang of something like homesickness pulsed in his chest.  It was familiar now, although he wouldn't say he'd gotten used to it.  And it was only slightly dimmed by drinking, but he was determined to keep trying until it went away. 

He wondered if the feeling had something to do with whatever it was that demon wanted him to remember, but then shied away from that thought when a stab of pain behind his eyes made him swerve slightly on the road.  Okay, best not to think about any of that. 

Luckily he didn't have to tiptoe around his own thoughts for long.  The drive from the Roadhouse to Bobby's was short, and soon he was pulling into the gravel in front of the rundown old house.  He rolled his eye at the sensible sedan that his brother had rented.  One of these days he was going to have to get Sam a proper car. 

He was barely out of his own car when the front door of Bobby's house flew open, and Sam was bounding toward him like an excited puppy.  Dean couldn't suppress his grin, so he didn't even try.  He held his arms wide and caught his giant little brother in a tight hug.   

"Heya, Sammy.  Man, it's good to see you.  How's school?" 

Sam pulled back and grinned down at him.  "You don't give two shits about how school is going for me." 

Dean punched his brother in the arm.  Un-gently.  "Fuck you, you little bitch.  Of course I care." 

Sam rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond, even as he rubbed the sore spot on his arm.  "Whatever, jerk."  His expression softened.  "So uh... set up won’t take me long.  We can get started right away if you want, or..." 

Now that they were so close to actually doing this thing, he found himself reluctant to continue.  "Uh, how about we grab something to eat first?  I haven't seen Bobby for a few days.  I should probably at least say hi." 

If Sam knew he was hedging, he didn't give any sign of it.  "Yeah, y'know I haven't actually eaten since this morning, so that's a good idea." 

Dinner wasn't much more than ham and cheese sandwiches, beer, and conversation around the table that Dean didn't participate in much.  Sam had apparently been studying magic along with law, and he was eager to share his new theories with Bobby.   

Something about that caused another headache to thump behind his eyes, so Dean steered away from the thoughts and just enjoyed his brother's excitement.  And his beer.  He would have grabbed a another one, but apparently that's when Sam decided it was time to get on with things. 

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be drunk right now," Sam said as Dean reached into the fridge for a fresh bottle. 

Dean put it back with a sigh.  "Yeah, you're probably right." 

The happy comfortable feeling fled the room, and the three of them stared at each other nervously.   

"Well," Bobby said as he slapped his hands down on the table and pushed himself to his feet.  "Ain't no time like the present, right?" 

Sam nodded, but shot Dean a questioning look. 

Being fluent in Sam-Face, Dean knew his brother was giving him a chance to back out.  But that was something he was not going to do.  He needed to have this curse broken.  The sooner, the better.  He clapped his hands together, and forced himself to sound as excited as he was nervous.  "Yeah, let's do this." 

Setup was simple.  Instead of drawing a small spell circle on the floor of their bedroom, like Sam had done when they were kids, they used the panic room instead.  The circle Sam painted on the floor was familiar to Dean, since this wasn't the first time they'd tried to break the curse.  He probably could have painted it himself. 

But it was larger, and there were a few new marks that Sam had never added before.  He hoped that was a good thing, and that whatever Sam was adding wouldn't make things worse. 

He stood in the center of the circle when Sam told him to, fingering his amulet.  "Do I need to take this off?" he asked. 

Sam shook his head, absorbed in the notebook he set out the rest of the spell ingredients.  "It won't make a difference.  You can hang onto it for now." 

Dean wrapped his hand around the horned-head amulet, grateful that he could keep it on.  It had become a talisman for comfort for him, and as the minutes ticked by, he found that he needed it. 

Finally, Sam seemed to be ready.  He had a small table set up at the edge of the room with a brass bowl and a cloth covered in piles of herbs and bottles of powders.  He started mixing them into the bowl, glancing at his notebook every now and then, but otherwise seeming confident in what he was doing. 

Finally, he sliced a dagger across his palm and let blood drip into the bowl, chanting in what sounded like Greek, but was a little off from what Dean was used to.  Once there was enough blood, Sam wrapped his palm in a clean towel and lifted a box of matches.  He lit one, and looked up at Dean. 

Their eyes met across the room, and Dean could read the question in Sam's eyes.  He swallowed thickly, apprehension suddenly making his mouth and throat go dry.  Was this the right thing to do?  He'd already lived with the curse for almost half of his life, and sometimes it was useful, and as long as he had his amulet, it didn't bother him. 

But then he remembered how angry his dad had been when he found out.  And the fear in Jo's eyes when she'd learned about his curse.  And how he'd had to be so careful to hide it from Gordon, eventually breaking off their partnership because he couldn't handle the stress anymore.   

He needed to be human again. 

A wave of heartache swept through him, and the empty pit that he had been trying to ignore for a few weeks now yawned wider inside him.  There was something in the back of his mind chanting _no no no no wrong_.   

Ignoring it, he nodded, letting Sam know that this was what he really wanted. 

Because he did.  Really. 

Sam dropped the match.  Bluish green flames flared up from the bowl, and Sam jumped back slightly.   

Dean almost laughed over his brother nearly singeing off his eyebrows, but then the pain hit him, and he sucked in a breath instead.  At first it was just heat running under his skin, but it increased in intensity with each heartbeat. 

There was something wrong.  There had to be something wrong.  Getting the curse hadn't hurt, so why was he in so much pain now? 

He was on fire.  His flesh was _burning_ , but when he managed to look down at himself he was surprised to find that it wasn’t turning black and curling away from his bones.  His skin looked normal.  His body wasn’t melting away.  But the invisible flames surrounded him working their way down his throat, into his lungs, and wrapping around his heart. 

He slumped to the floor and screamed. 

Vaguely he was aware that Sam had clapped his hands over his ears and was crouched down near the edge of the room.  Bobby was shouting something, but the words made no sense to Dean's overloaded brain. 

Then he could no longer see, could no longer hear.  He had no eyes, no ears, no body.  He was the flame. 

He didn't know how long he burned for.  His mind couldn't fathom the passage of time. 

And then the pain reached a threshold that his mind couldn't cross, and Dean did the only thing he could.  He spread his wings and flew away, leaving his body, the vessel of all that pain and suffering, far far behind. 

At least he tried to.  The pain stayed with him, no matter how hard or fast he flew.

 

\-----

 

Castiel had only an hour or so to stay buried under his quilts before he was forced out of them by Charlie's arrival.  She came through his open bedroom door like a small fiery whirlwind, laptop bag over one shoulder, and bag of curry takeout in her other hand. 

"Ugh, have you even gotten dressed today, Cas?" She asked as she dropped her laptop on the end of the bed. 

Lowering the quilt enough so that he could see her over the edge, Castiel shrugged.  "I saw no need." 

She rolled her eyes.  "Lazy.  Oh well, pajamas are more comfortable for the day's planned activities anyway." 

Castiel sighed.  He didn't really want the company, but he could see the determined glint in Charlie's eye.  And he did appreciate the fact that she wanted to help him cheer up, so he sat up and leaned against the headboard while she set up the laptop. 

He accepted his carton of lamb curry and took a tentative bite.  Even though it was his favorite, the normally spicy flavor fell flat on his tongue.  But he forced himself to chew and swallow and take another bite.  He couldn't let Charlie's efforts go to waste. 

Finally she settled in next to him and the movie started as she began to eat.   

Castiel lifted an eyebrow when Clueless started playing.  He turned a flat look on her.  "Really?" 

She grinned.  "Shut up, chick flicks like this are exactly what you need after a breakup."  She shoved a bite of rice smothered in sauce into her mouth.  

He rolled his eyes but settled in to watch the movie.  What had happened between him and Dean was far more than just a breakup and there was no amount of cheery feel-good movies that could heal him from losing the other man.   

His stomach roiled uncomfortably when he thought of never seeing Dean again, and he set his carton of food on the bedside table.  He couldn't eat more than a few bites, but he would try again later. 

Charlie eyed him, and set her own carton down in her lap.  "Why don't you go after him, Castiel?" 

"He wanted to leave." He answered woodenly. 

"He's also an idiot," Charlie replied.  "He might have changed his mind if you hadn't wiped his memory." 

Castiel clenched his jaw against the urge to yell at her.  He knew that.  Of course he knew that.  But he had cast a contract spell, and he couldn't avoid wiping Dean's memories unless he wanted to risk himself physical harm and even death. 

When he remained silent, Charlie let out a puff of air, and turned back to the laptop screen.  After a few more bites of rice, she tried again.  "Maybe you can just leave his memory alone.  Go find him and let him get to know you again-" 

"Charlie-" Castiel started warningly.  He was going to tell her how dangerous that would be for Dean's mind, but before he could continue he was hit with wave after wave of burning pain. 

It rippled under his skin, and dug through his flesh.  Flames invaded his lungs, and his heart.  He thought he might be screaming, but he couldn't tell under the onslaught. 

Around him the furniture began to quake as his magic started trying to defend him.  He was only barely able to spare a thought for Charlie, praying that she was smart enough to get the hell out and find Gabriel. 

That tiny sliver of his mind that was still lucid lost track of thoughts about Charlie as he suddenly heard a scream.  It wasn't from a human throat, though.  It was a mental scream, and it was shredded with pain and anguish.  The same sharp feelings that were slicing through Castiel.  And it was one word.  One he recognized easily. 

_CASTIEL!!_  

_"Dean!"_  

He felt Dean's soul seeking him out, and he stretched himself toward it, reaching for the familiar light.  Dean was far, so far, away and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to reach him.  And then he felt a brush of feathers against his palm.   

Carefully, he closed his fingers around it.  Cupping the tiny gold and green hummingbird in his palms, Castiel felt some of the pain fade.  The creature in his hands trembled and chirped.  It's heart was pounding so quickly that Castiel could feel it fluttering against his skin. 

Vaguely he was aware that he was laying in his bed, Gabriel bent over him and talking to him.  But Castiel wasn't paying attention.  He had left his body safe in his brother's care, and his spirit was in his garden.   

Unlike the snowy reality he left behind, his garden was warm and welcoming.  The sun hung low in the afternoon sky, lining the trees and flowers around him with white and gold.  Thick grass grew under his bare feet, and he sank down to sit cross legged.  The grass was cool, but the sunlight warmed his skin.  He brought his hands up and peeked at the terrified hummingbird. 

"Dean," Castiel said softly.  "It's alright.  You're alright.  I've got you." 

The fear rolling off of the other man's soul abated slightly.  Soft squeaks and chirps occasionally reached Castiel's ears.  He couldn't understand them, and he wasn't sure if Dean was actually trying to communicate with him or not.  He could tell Dean was in pain, because Castiel could still feel it, although it was muted now that they were in contact. 

He rubbed the top of Dean's head with the tip of one finger, cooing softly to the little bird.   

Something was wrong.  Breaking Dean’s curse shouldn’t be causing him any pain, and yet the spell that he’d taught Sam was tearing Dean apart.  Even feeling it second hand was excruciating.  It was no wonder Dean had fled his body. 

When he concentrated Castiel could see the the lines of the curse shifting inside Dean's tiny form.  They were dark and rotten looking, as if spun from blood and gristle into the finest thread.  Some of the strands were breaking, and others were stretched almost to that point.  And Castiel realized that Dean was fighting against them, trying to keep each strand in place and intact. 

There was another strand, thicker than the rest and healthy looking compared to the rest of the curse.  It ran in a delicate arch from Dean's body to Castiel's. 

Their bond.   

Unlike the threads holding the curse in place, this one looked as if it were spun from light, and it glowed softly.  It was silvery blue, and resonated with the magic of life.  Careful not to damage it, Castiel touched it to see if he could learn more about it.  Instead of breaking as he feared it would, it strengthened and pulsed a little brighter.    

Dean made a soft sound of distress, and Castiel brought him closer to his chest.  The pain receded even further as pressure was taken off the link between them, and Dean's trembling began to subside. 

"Dean," Castiel said softly.  "I won't let it break, I promise." 

He didn't know exactly how he was going to do that, but he was determined.  Castiel reached deep inside himself for the dregs of power that he'd been able to store up over the last few weeks, and pushed it into their link, strengthening it. 

Doing this was dangerous.  The curse was trying to unravel, but Castiel was building parts of it back up.  He had no idea how this was going to affect Dean, but there was no way he could allow their bond to break.  Not now that he held Dean's trembling soul against his own.  He sent up a prayer to the gods that he wasn't doing irreparable damage, and that Dean wouldn’t hate him for what he was doing afterwards, and continued to weave his magic into the unraveling curse. 

He didn't know how much time passed.  It could have been minutes or hours in the real world.  But in the shelter of his own mind, the sun barely moved.  He measured time by the slow ebbing of Dean's pain, and the slowing of his fluttering heartbeat. 

Eventually the magic ran dry again and he stopped trying to feed the bond with anything more.  Exhausted, Castiel lay back on the grass, cuddling Dean against his heart.  He couldn’t do anything more to strengthen their bond, but he sent love and comfort through it, hoping it would ease Dean’s pain as the curse continued to unravel. 

_Castiel?_  

"I'm here, Dean." 

_Don't leave me._  

"We have to go back to our bodies at some point."

_Hurts._  

Castiel resumed stroking the delicate creature, starting at his head and sliding the tip of his finger down his back between his wings.  "I know, but it will end soon." 

_Stay with me until it stops._  

"Of course, Dean." 

The spell had almost run it's course.  Castiel could sense it winding down.  When he examined Dean's soul, it still had lines from the curse running through it, but they were different.  Before they had been icy cold and malicious, but now they pulsed with warmth.  They looked like they were spun from the most delicate spider's silk, and the rot that had been there before was gone.  Castiel could feel himself resonating through the remaining tatters, and when he looked closer, he could see the threads knitting together.  He wasn't doing that because he had run out of power, but sometimes magic did things on its own. 

Or it was possible that Dean was doing something that he wasn't conscious of.  It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility, especially since Dean was not quite human anymore.   

Looking past the strands of the curse - or whatever it was now - Castiel found the block he'd put around Dean's memories.  The wall was still in place, but there was a large crack down the center of it.  He gently poked around the edges, trying to figure out what had caused the damage.  It didn't seem to have come within, but he had no idea what could have caused that tiny opening. 

He was grateful that it was there.  It was probably what had allowed Dean's soul to find his when the curse began unraveling.   

And then it occurred to him exactly how that could have happened and he let out a sigh.  "Meg." 

"Well that didn't go quite as I expected." 

Castiel turned his head and found Meg laying in the grass next to him.  She was in her original form, and his heart ached at the sight of her bright red locks and freckled cheeks.  "And what was it you expected." 

She turned her head to face him, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with malicious cheer.  "Well I kinda figured breaking your bond might hurt.  And I assumed he'd remember you and try to fight Sam's magic to stop the pain."  She tossed her hands up, fingers spread wide.  "I didn't expect there would be _so much_ pain, or that it would affect you as well.  That was a delightful side effect." 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at her.  "You enjoyed watching us suffer?" 

She rolled her eyes, turning back to watch the cottony clouds pass over the sky.  "Duh.   _Demon._ " 

He tensed, and then immediately forced his hands to relax when Dean let out a dismayed squeak.  "Get the hell out of my head, Meg.  You are not welcome here." 

She pushed herself up onto her elbows and leaned over him.  Her lips pursed together in a pout.  "Hey, I'm just here to check on you.  And it's also because of me that you're little pet is still alive, so show a little gratitude." 

Castiel sat up, careful to keep Dean cradled against his chest.  "Meg, what did you do?" 

Meg sat up as well, turning to face him.  She was clothed in the loose tunic and belt that had been common garb when they had first wed, and the sight caused a little twinge of nostalgia near his heart.  But it faded quickly when her eyes flashed black in her irritation.  "I prevented the bond from breaking, idiot.  I put a crack in that block in his memory so that he would remember you when the curse started to unravel." 

"That could have damaged him irreparably-" Castiel started, but Meg cut him off. 

"If the curse had been broken, he would have died," she snapped.  She crossed her arms over her tiny frame.  Her original body had always been small and lacking in curves, but he found her lovely anyway.  "And you probably wouldn't have been too far behind.  Witches don't usually survive the death of their Familiar." 

Castiel dropped his eyes to the soul still cupped gently in his hands.  Dean appeared to be sleeping.  The pain of Sam's spell had completely faded.  "He's not a real Familiar.  He was under a curse." 

"But the bond was real," Meg pointed out huffily.  "And now you still have it, and he's un-cursed.  You're welcome." 

"Is he though?" Castiel asked.  "There's still something there." 

Meg reached out and tugged at Castiel's thumb so she could look at Dean.  Her expression was scrunched up in irritation, but it smoothed out as she studied the tiny form in Castiel's hands.  "Well what do you know?" she finally murmured.  "Looks like he's still part Familiar.  That's actually pretty cool." 

"What does that mean for him?" Castiel asked.  Would Dean still be able to shift?  Would he be stuck wearing that amulet forever?  Would he have some kind of shifting schedule like a were-creature? 

Meg shrugged and leaned back.  "Hell if I know.  He's something brand new."  Then she grinned at him, all teeth and malicious humor again.  "I guess you'd better go find him and figure it out." 

"But-" 

"Oh for fuck's sake, Clarence.  Stop punishing yourself, and go find yourself a little happiness." 

Castiel glared at her.  "I am not punishing myself." 

She fixed him with a stare that clearly said she thought he was an idiot.  "Don't lie to me, Castiel.  Not only do I know you very well, but I'm also a demon, and lying is kinda my realm of expertise.  I can see what you do to yourself.  And while I enjoy watching you suffer, because misery is really fucking sexy on you, I really should move on to torturing souls I actually plan on dragging down to Hell at some point." 

He shook his head.  "I don't do anything-" 

"Oh please.  You blame yourself for my death.  You blame yourself for the death of your spouses who merely grew old and died of natural causes.  You hate yourself for abandoning your offspring and their progeny."  She leaned forward again, and even though her eyes had flickered back to their normal pale blue several minutes ago, he could still see Hell reflected in their depths.  "You may very well live for another thousand years, Castiel.  Don't deny yourself happiness just because the rest of the world is mortal." 

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but no words came.  He shut his mouth with an audible click and dropped his gaze to his lap.  She was right about his guilt over her death, and he couldn't completely deny her other accusations as well.  So he didn't try. 

She glanced down at Dean's soul.  "You know that a Familiar's bond will keep him alive as long as you live, right?" 

Castiel sighed.  He did know that.  It upset him that he had bonded Dean without knowing what he was doing.  Dean should have been able to choose that for himself, but now he would be tied to Castiel forever. 

"Oh stop it," Meg huffed.  She glared at him when his eyes snapped up to hers.  "I can see the guilt wheels turning in your head, and you can just stop right there.  Did it ever occur to you that maybe _Dean_ bonded _you?_ " 

"It doesn't-" 

"Work that way, yeah yeah.  Well we've already called bullshit on that.  Magic works-" 

"If you say 'mysterious ways'," Castiel snapped, "So help me, I will exorcise you." 

Meg held up her hands in surrender, but she was smirking at him.  "Whatever, Clarence.  Just quit being an idiot and go collect your Familiar.  Grow a new garden, and fuck your boyfriend in the grass until neither of you can walk straight.  Live happily ever after.  And for fuck's sake, get a haircut.  You're starting to look like a damn hippy." 

Castiel couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped him.  His hair wasn't all that long, although it was getting to the point where he was brushing it out of his eyes constantly.  "You're not my wife anymore," he pointed out, still smiling to take the sting out of the words.  "I no longer need to keep you happy." 

"But I am the devil on your shoulder, so I'll keep making suggestions until you listen to me," Meg shot back.  Then she slapped her hands on her thighs.  "Alright, I'm out.  Take care of yourself, Clarence." 

"Thank you, Meg."  And he meant it.  He had no idea what her interference had caused in the long run, but he was grateful that somehow she still had the capacity to care about him, and that she had taken action to give him something she thought would make him happy. 

With a negligent wave, and an imperious sniff, Meg disappeared.   

Castiel turned his attention to the soul huddled against his chest.  Dean appeared to be sleeping deeply; he must be completely drained after fighting against losing their bond. 

He briefly considered removing the blocks around Dean's memory, but decided against it.  He was far too exhausted, and he didn't trust himself to do it without causing any more damage.   

But he was going to take Meg's advice.  As soon as possible he would go fetch Dean.  He would do his best to salvage their relationship, because he had known deep down that he couldn't live without Dean, and Meg's words only confirmed his suspicions.  He had lived a long life, and if it came to an end, he could honestly say he could accept that.  But if his life force was tied to Dean's now, he wanted to spend any time he had left with his Familiar. 

He stayed cocooned in the garden grown inside his mind for a little longer, cherishing the warmth of Dean's soul so close to his.  But he could feel his body's exhaustion and he knew he couldn't stay much longer.  That meant Dean would need to go back to his own body soon, as well. 

Castiel lifted the tiny hummingbird close to his lips and blew across Dean's feathers.  Tiny green eyes, no bigger than seeds blinked open and looked at him. 

“Dean,” Castiel whispered.  “It’s time to go back.” 

_No.  Hurts._  

“Dean.  You’re safe now, I promise.” 

_Come with me._  

Castiel smiled.  He didn’t think Dean knew who he was, only that he was safe with Castiel and didn’t want to leave.  “I can’t.  But I will come to you as soon as I can.” 

Green and gold feathers fluffed up.   _Promise?_  

“Of course, Dean.” 

Dean snapped his beak, and Castiel could feel his fear.  But after a moment of hesitation, Dean flexed his wings.  Castiel opened his hands, and Dean rose up from his palm, wings blurring into what looked like a gold halo around the tiny body. 

Dean flitted back and forth a few times, and then he was gone, flying back to his own body. 

Castiel stayed in his garden until he knew Dean had reached his destination.  He ached at the distance between them, and resolved to close it as soon as possible.   

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  When he opened them again, he was back in his room.  From the look of things, only a few minutes had passed.  Charlie was hovering near the door to his room, knuckles pressed against her mouth, and fear making her eyes wide.  Gabriel was bent over him, and when he saw Castiel was awake, all the breath left him in a harsh sigh. 

“Oh thank fuck,” Gabriel said as he sank down on the edge of the bed.  “You looked like you were dying, and I can’t do that mind magic shit to try and fix you.  What the hell just happened?” 

Castiel struggled to sit up, and smiled gratefully when Gabriel helped him.  “I need to go to Sioux Falls,” he said instead of answering the question.  “I need to go to Dean.” 

Gabriel’s eyebrows went up in surprise, but then he grinned.  “Well it’s about damn time.” 


	21. A Broken Curse

Sam winced as raised voices caused the thudding behind his eyes to increase its tempo.  The pain was strong enough to be disorienting, and he wasn't sure exactly who the voices belonged to at first.  It took a few minutes of slow, steady breathing before he could place them. 

"What the hell were you thinking, Bobby?" 

"I was thinking that your boy would finally be human again!" 

"He was fine!  He's _been_ fine for ten years-" 

"He wanted this, John-" 

"He's just a boy.  He doesn't know what he wants-" 

"Dean is old enough to make his own decisions-" 

Sam groaned.  Something must have gone seriously wrong if Bobby had called John Winchester.   

Placing his palm over his forehead to hold his head in place in case it tried to fall off, Sam slowly sat up.  Being upright only made his head ache more, and he had to pep talk himself into opening his eyes.  Despite the fact that the room was only dimly lit, he hissed and slammed his eyes shut again.   

Damn.  His head felt raw, as if someone had scooped out his brain with a melon baller, sanded the inside of his skull, and then dumped everything back in.  When he remembered the sound of Dean's screams, both physical and mental, he understood why.  Dean's psychic link to him was weak in comparison to his link to Castiel, but it had been enough for Sam to get the full brunt of Dean's pain as the curse began to unravel.   

The last thing Sam remembered was "hearing" Dean scream for Castiel.  Then he must have lost consciousness, because his memory was a blank after that.  He had no idea how long he’d been out for, although he doubted it was long.  His dad must have been nearby to get there so quick when Bobby called him. 

They were obviously arguing about Dean which meant they were worried about something.  Remembering the sound of his brother’s hoarse screams made the hair along Sam’s arms raise up, and despite the pain in his head, heopened his eyes, frantic to find out what had happened to Dean.  Adrenaline flooded him, making it easy to ignore his headache, and he leapt to his feet and rushed out of the room, barely cognizant of the fact that he was upstairs and had been laying on Bobby's ratty old couch in the living room.   

John and Bobby's voices were coming from Bobby's office, so that's where Sam went first.  They stopped yelling at each other as soon as Sam stumbled through the door.  "What happened to Dean?" Sam demanded. 

John spun on him angrily.  "Why don't you tell me?" He snapped.  "You were the one casting the spell.  And just what the hell were you doing messing around with that kind of magic again?  Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?" 

Sam had never been one to cower in the face of John's anger, and now was no exception.  Especially since he was far more concerned with Dean's welfare than John's opinion.  Knowing he wouldn't get anything except a lecture from his dad, Sam turned to Bobby.  "Is he okay?" 

The worry in Bobby's expression made Sam’s heart thud faster.  "Where is he?" 

"Locked in the panic room-" 

Sam didn't wait for more.  He ran for the door leading to the basement, and barrelled down the stairs so fast that he was lucky he didn't lose his balance and crash down head first.  The panic room door was shut and there was a padlock on the door, but Sam slammed up against it and looked through the slotted window at the top.  

Dean was laying on a cot near the center, his arms and legs strapped down.  Sam scowled at the sight, despite his relief at seeing Dean's chest rising slowly with each breath.  He spun around just as John and Bobby came down the stairs behind him.  "Why is he locked in there?" He demanded.  "Why is he tied down?" 

Bobby had the good grace to look uncomfortable when he answered.  "After you passed out and he stopped screaming, he was lashing out and scratching at his skin like he wanted to tear it off.  I strapped him down so he wouldn't hurt himself." 

The breath left Sam in a rush, slightly relieved by the answer.  At least until he remembered that the door was locked shut.  He grabbed the padlock and shook it.  "Let me in.  I need to see him." 

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.  "I don't know if that's a good idea, boy." 

"It's not," John snapped.  He stepped forward and put his hand on the door.  Sam had to shift slightly to get out of his way as he looked through the window into the panic room.  "Something went wrong, and we're leaving him in there until we know what he is now." 

Sam's jaw fell open, and it took him a full five seconds to understand that his dad was serious.  "Are you kidding?  Look at him, he's fine!" 

John slanted him a rebuking glare.  "We don't know that.  He's still got his amulet on, and for all we know, that's the only thing keeping him human right now." 

"Dad, come on." Sam ran his hand through his hair while he tried to find the words to reason with his father.  "I was casting a spell to break his curse.  Yeah, something went wrong, but you can't assume he's turned into some kind of monster." 

He had a vague idea of what might have caused the problem, but he wasn't about to tell his dad about Dean's Familiar bond.  If John knew that Dean had been living with a witch, there was no way he'd win this argument.   

"Besides," he added when John didn't look like he was going to budge.  "Someone needs to at least check on him and make sure he's okay." 

"Boy's got a point," Bobby murmured. 

John looked back and forth between them for a moment before he sighed.  The tension went out of his shoulders, and something like fear flickered over his expression, proof that while he was sometimes a cold hearted asshole, he still loved his sons.  "Yeah.  Yeah, you're right." 

When he pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it over, Sam smiled.  "Thanks, dad," he said softly before turning to unlock the door.   

The hinges squealed loudly as he pulled open the large metal door, reminding Sam that his head still hurt like a bitch.  Dean twitched at the sound and let out a soft whine.  Sam rushed over to the cot and leaned over him, smoothing a hand through Dean's sweaty hair.  "Dean?  Can you hear me?  Come on man, wake up for me." 

Dean bared his teeth in a snarl and pulled away from Sam's touch.  Sam thought he saw a flash of fangs, but when Dean's head lolled back in Sam's direction his teeth looked normal again.  Sam didn't really have time to think about it because Dean started thrashing again. 

"Hey, hey!" Sam caught Dean's head between his hands and tried to hold him still.  It was difficult because Dean seemed unnaturally strong for being unconscious.  "Dean!  Calm down, man!  It's me!  It's Sam!" 

Dean's eyes snapped open and locked on Sam's face.  His snarl faded, and he blinked once, twice.  "Sammy?" 

Sam stared right back.  His heart started to pound when he realized Dean's irises were reflecting light from the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.  Then Dean tilted his head a little, and his eyes went back to their normal green.  He groaned and tried to curl into Sam, but the movement was aborted by the cuffs around his wrists. 

"Wha's going on?" Dean slurred.  "Why can't I move?" 

Sam glanced down at Dean's arms.  He wore a long sleeved flannel shirt over his t-shirt but the sleeves were rolled up and Sam could see long scratch marks in the skin.  "You were scratching yourself.  We just wanted to make sure you stopped.” 

Dean blinked blearily and looked around.  It didn't seem to register to him right away that he was still in the panic room, but when the realization hit him, his eyes narrowed and he looked back at Sam.  "Didn't it work?" 

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly.  "You started screaming in my head and I blacked out.  Dad and Bobby shut you in here for now until you woke up and we could find out what happened." 

Dean jerked against his bonds again, and Sam reached for his wrists to urge him to hold still.  The last thing he needed was burns from the cuffs.  "Dad's here?" 

"Bobby called him.  We must have been knocked out for a while." 

Dean's eyes slid shut and he dropped his head listlessly on the cot.  "Fuck.  Is he pissed?" 

Sam chuckled.  Dean never liked dealing with magic when John was around.  It inevitably led to lectures, and fights, and Dean would have to jump between his dad and brother to get them to calm down.  And knowing how pissed John already was, Sam knew that Dean might find himself in that position again all too soon.  "Yeah,"he answered.  "He's pretty ticked off at me right now.  Don't worry about it though.  How are you feeling?" 

"Like I'm tied to a fucking bed," Dean snapped.  He jerked at his arms.  "Let me go." 

Bobby and John had filed into the room.  "We need to find out what happened first," John said.  There wasn't any heat in his voice, but the words were pitched to gain obedience. 

Bobby snorted.  "Oh for hell's sake, John."  He pushed past the other man and started working at the straps holding Dean's ankles down.  "Ain't nothing bad has happened yet.  He stopped scratchin' at himself so let's let him go." 

While John huffed in annoyance, whether from being disobeyed, or from being talked down to by his friend, Sam didn't know, Sam and Bobby worked together to unstrap Dean from the cot. 

Dean sat up slowly, rubbing his wrists.  He caught sight of the scratches on his arms and glared at them.  "What happened?" 

Sam shrugged.  "I don't know, man.  I was out of it for a while too." 

Dean glanced up at him, and once again Sam saw the light reflected off his irises.  This time he knew it wasn't his imagination.  It was like the little gold flecks in his eyes were actual gold and were shining when the light hit them just right.  He frowned, but he didn't say anything yet.  When he shot a glance at Bobby, he knew the older man had caught the flash as well from the tiny shake of his hand warning Sam not to say anything for now. 

"Any idea if the spell worked?" Dean asked cautiously.  He was holding his amulet tight in one of his fists.  It was something Sam had seen him do a lot over the last decade, and it usually denoted the fact that Dean was nervous. 

Sam shrugged, and gave his brother a wry smile.  "No idea.  But there's one way to find out."

 

\-----

 

Dean squeezed the amulet in his hand, taking comfort from the familiar bite of the horns against his palm.  He turned his eyes away from the other men in the room, and stared at the concrete floor under his feet.  The symbols Sam had painted on the floor were still there, and he brushed one of the lines with the toe of his boot.  The paint flaked away easily, its substance corrupted by the magic that had flowed through it. 

His mind still buzzed unpleasantly, like he was halfway between drunk and hungover, with too much coffee dumped into his system at the same time.  And his skin itched, the long scratches stinging every time he moved.  It took everything he had not to start scratching again. 

For a moment, he was tempted to lay back down and go back to sleep.  Sleep had been good.  Comforting.  He'd dreamed of a garden, and warmth, and someone... 

Pain twinged between his eyes when he tried to remember who had been in the garden with him, and he shut down the thought.  

"Well, boy?" Bobby asked when he hadn't moved for a few minutes.  "You gonna take that damn necklace off or what?" 

Dean shot a glare at the older man, and then a nervous one up at his dad.  John had been ready to put him down like a rabid animal when Dean had first been cursed.  What if whatever had gone wrong during Sam's spell this time made him into something worse?  Would his dad listen if Bobby and Sam tried to stop him this time? 

Forcing himself to drop his hand away from the amulet, Dean pushed himself to his feet.  "I, uh... just need a little time." 

He would not admit to being scared, not in so many words.  But he was.  He was terrified that the spell hadn't worked, or somehow it had warped him even further.  And he just wasn't ready to find out yet.   

His stomach growled loudly, giving him the excuse he needed to put off the inevitable.  "I'm starved.  Think we could eat something first?" 

John looked angry, and like he wanted to argue.  But Sam looked sympathetic, and Bobby backed him up, standing and slapping his hands against his thighs to knock away imaginary dirt. 

"Come on upstairs," Bobby said gruffly.  "I ain't got much, but there's some leftover salami and swiss in the fridge, calling my name.  And you boys’ve been sleeping more’n a day so you’re probably starving.” 

At the reminder of food, Dean’s stomach growled loudly.  Bobby snorted, and turned to make his way upstairs. 

Following him was a slow ordeal.  Dean ached as if he'd been beaten with a stick, and he was exhausted.  The itch in his skin seemed to be fading, so that was a small blessing at least. 

Sam didn't look all that great, either.  His skin was pale, and there were dark smudges under his eyes.  He looked like he hadn't slept for a week.  At the top of the stairs, Dean grabbed his arm and tugged him around.  "You okay, man?" 

Sam smiled wryly and shrugged.  "My head kinda hurts and I feel like I could sleep for a month, but I'm good."  He looked away, fidgeting slightly.  "You go on ahead and get something to eat.  I've gotta make a phone call." 

Dean couldn't even fathom who Sam would need to talk to right now, but he nodded and watched his brother make his way to the front door, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he stepped outside.  He frowned, because his brother had seemed reluctant to look him in the eye, and what the hell was that about?  Sam would glare their dad down head on.  He wasn't the kind of guy to shy away from eye-contact. 

Unless he was guilt tripping himself over whatever had gone wrong earlier.  Dean really hoped that wasn't the case.  They'd known going into this that shit could hit the fan pretty easily.  Dean hadn't exactly expected to feel like he was being taken apart a cell at a time, but he wasn't surprised really.  He didn't have the best track record with magic anyway.   

He had every intention of shrugging it off and heading into the kitchen to join John and Bobby, because he _was_ starving.  But Sam hadn't closed the door all the way behind him, and as Dean walked toward the kitchen, he caught a little bit of what his brother was saying.  Curiosity burned through him when he heard his name, and he detoured to get closer to the door. 

"...seems alright, but his eyes are different.  No else seems to have noticed yet, but-" 

His eyes were different?  Dean lifted a hand and touched the skin below one of his eyes.  What the hell did that mean?" 

"No, no, I don't think so."  There was a pause, and Dean could hear a voice coming from Sam's phone even though he shouldn't be able to from this distance.  It was almost like their sensitivity had increased because he wanted to hear more.  When he focused, he could hear what the other person was saying. 

" _Don't worry, we should be there soon.  We’re coming the old fashioned way because my little brother isn't fit to cast a spark, much less a teleportation spell, and I’m not up to bringing both of us at the same time._ "   

"What? You're coming here? Are you sure that's a good-" 

" _We wouldn't be heading out there if we didn't think so_." 

"No, I know, but Cas said it was dangerous..." 

Dean stopped listening.  The name Cas bounced around inside his skull, beating at his brain painfully.  Cas.   _Cas.... Cas..._  

Dean sucked in a breath, having forgotten to inhale for a moment.  Castiel.  He knew that name.  Why did he know it?  He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, trying to concentrate through the blinding headache that was threatening to knock him on his ass. 

"Hey, you boys coming, or- Dean are you alright?"  John grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. 

Dean dropped his hands and looked at his dad, a completely normal reaction under the circumstances.  But when he did, John recoiled, letting go of his shoulder and taking a step back. 

"What the hell is wrong with your eyes?" John demanded. 

Dean frowned and tilted his head, trying to understand the non-sequitur.  "What?" 

Instead of answering, John closed the space between them again and grabbed him roughly by the chin, forcing his head to turn first to the left, then the right.  John stared right at Dean's eyes, a thunderous expression masking his features as he examined him.  "What the actual fuck?" 

"Dad, you're kinda freaking me out here," Dean said gruffly.  He wanted to jerk away from John's touch, but years of obedience to the older man kept him still.  "What are you looking at?"  Sammy had said there was something weird with his eyes too.  Dean’s heart sped up as adrenaline started pumping into his veins.  

Instead of answering, John dropped his hand from Dean's jaw and curled his fingers in the collar of Dean's shirt.  He dragged Dean toward the closest bathroom, shoving him inside to stand in front of the mirror.  He flipped the light on, and then grabbed Dean's jaw again, forcing him to look at his own reflection. 

"Dad, what the hell?" Dean grunted, belatedly trying to free himself, but then he froze when he caught a flash from his reflection.   

His eyes glinted metallic gold in the light above the mirror.  When his dad realized he wasn't fighting anymore, he was released, and Dean leaned forward to get a better look at his eyes.  As the angle of the light changed, his eyes lost the gold glow and changed back to the bright green flecked with brown that he was used to seeing.  He leaned back again, and the light caught his eyes just right and they seemed to shine. 

"What the _hell?_ " He repeated.   

"I don't know what Sam did this time," John said from behind him, "but that sure as shit isn't normal." 

It wasn't.  And neither was the extra sensitive hearing that had let him listen in on Sam's phone conversation.  What else about him was different? 

Suddenly, the bathroom felt too crowded with the two of them in there.  Dean spun around and pushed past John to stalk back toward the front of the house.  Even as he noticed that he could still hear Sam talking to someone - Gabriel? - he also realized that he could smell the swiss cheese and mustard coming from the kitchen, along with the scent of dusty old books, wood oil, whiskey, and sweat.  He could tell which scent was Bobby, and which one was John, and as he swung the front door open to confront his brother, he was hit with Sam's distinct scent as well.   

Once he noticed all the smells they overwhelmed him, but a breeze cut through it all filling his sinuses with fresh air.  He took a deep breath through his mouth and nose at the same time, scenting the wind.  He could smell mold and dirt, chemicals from the wrecking yard, and a cat that hadn’t been chased off by Bobby’s dog yet.  

Sam spun around and pressed his phone against his chest, eyeing Dean warily.  "Dean?  What is it?" 

"Nothing," Dean gasped out.  His heart was pounding with growing panic, and instead of confronting Sam as he'd intended, he pushed past his brother and hopped off the porch, walking out toward the road.  

He ignored the argument starting behind him between his dad and brother, and broke into a jog.  Usually he'd do what he could to diffuse their fight, but right now he needed to be alone.  He needed to be in motion.   

His beat up old army boots were not really great for running, especially across the gravel that led to the road.  For a moment, he considered taking his pendant off and shifting into something with four legs or wings, but then he remembered that he may not have that ability anymore.  Or he might still have it if Sam's spell had failed.  Or worse, he might turn into some weird creature with nine legs and four mouths and a hundred eyes.  He had no idea, and he wasn't ready yet to test it.  So he ignored his discomfort, and settled into a mile eating run along the road. 

As his feet pounded out a steady rhythm on the asphalt, Dean began to feel better.  The fuzzy feeling around his brain faded, and his skin no longer itched.  The scratches on his arms still stung, but it was a distant feeling.  The lingering ache that had been settled deep in his bones when Sam woke him up began to ease, and even though his heart was pounding and his breath came in steady pants, it was now from exertion instead of fear and adrenaline.   

Slowly, he became aware of a new sensation.  An ache under his sternum that had become a normal fact of life over the last few weeks, but had been overwhelmed by the agony of Sam's spell, began to grow.  It inflated around his heart, filling him with a sense of longing so intense that tears pricked at his eyes.  

He stumbled to a halt, bracing his hands on his knees and gasping for breath.  A sob escaped him, because something was _missing,_ and he needed to find it.  He needed to find it and hold on to it and never let it go.  But he didn't know what _it_ was. 

He dropped down onto his haunches, crouching on the side of the road, and wrapped his arms over the back of his neck.  He sucked in deep breaths, trying to hold back the tears, but they flowed anyway, dripping down his cheeks and falling to the asphalt below. 

Why?  Why did he feel like he'd lost the light in his world?  Why did he feel restless, like he needed to search for it? 

What he really wanted to find was a drink.  Preferably something with a kick strong enough to knock him on his ass.  Getting drunk kept these feelings dulled enough that he could pretend they didn't exist. But between Jo forcing him to sober up and the stress of Sam's spell, his ability to block it had crumbled like a wall under attack from a wrecking ball. 

Forcing himself to concentrate, Dan pictured himself inside his car.  In his mind he shut each door, pushed down the locks one at a time, then rolled all the windows up.  He was alone in the car, and it was silent and peaceful. A warm glow leaked around the edges of the glove box, but he tried not to pay attention to that since it seemed to add to the ache around his heart. 

After a few minutes, the emotional outpouring finally began to subside even if the ache inside his chest didn't, and he began to feel a little silly.  Once he was sure he had a grip on himself he wiped his face and straightened, bracing his hands on his hips.  Looking around, he discovered that he'd gone pretty far.  Probably a few miles at least.  He turned to face the direction he'd come.  Bobby's place was pretty far outside the outskirts of town, and the road was completely empty.  They really didn't get a lot of traffic out here anyway, and he was grateful no one had driven past and seen his little breakdown. 

He was surprised no one had come after him, actually.  Sam, at the very least.  Dad hadn't been the type to show a lot of concern for his sons' welfare since he'd decided they were old enough to hunt on their own.   

Dean shrugged, and shook his arms out.  Looks like he had a long walk ahead of him.  He didn't mind really.  It would just be more time where he didn't have to face the suspicious looks he was probably going to get from his dad until they figured out what was up with his eyes. 

As he walked, he started paying attention to his extra senses.  His ears were definitely more sensitive, and he could see farther and with a lot more detail.  The sun had sunk low enough that he was walking through twilight, the sky above him steadily getting darker, but he could see perfectly fine.  His nose twitched when the wind shifted and he caught the smell of a skunk.  

_Ugh._  

He rubbed his nose, trying to get rid of the burning sensation in his sinuses.   

Whatever had happened when Sam tried to break his curse had definitely changed him.  But it seemed to have given him stronger senses, like when he was shifted into animal form.  Only instead of just one or two being heightened, it seemed that all of them were stronger than before.  

If that was all that had changed besides his eyes, he thought he could be pretty happy with that.  Well, maybe not the bloodhound nose.  He'd never been a fan of that, no matter how useful it was. 

He wondered if he was stronger and faster too.  If he'd been paying attention during his run instead of letting panic cloud his mind, he would know.  But he'd have to figure it out later. 

One thing he could figure out right now though is what would happen if he pulled off the amulet. 

Dean stopped on the side of the road and fingered the horn-headed pendant around his neck, staring at it thoughtfully.  It didn't seem to be protecting him from the heightened senses, and his eyes were definitely fucking weird even while wearing it.  So what would happen if he took it off right now?  Would he shift again?  Would he turn into some weird half-beast-half-man thing? 

A shudder shook his shoulders.  Damn, he really hoped that wasn't the case.  At least when he shifted into an animal, no one would run screaming in fear of him.   

Making his decision quickly, Dean pulled the strap of the necklace over his head and held it out in front of him.  He wanted to close his eyes, but he kept them open and watched his fingers uncurl. 

The amulet dropped to the asphalt near his feet. 

Which stayed human. 

Dean held his breath, waiting for something, anything, to happen.  

After a few minutes it finally sank in that he was still human.  The empty ache in his chest receded, to be replaced with elation.  It bubbled up inside him, spilling over into hysterical laughter. 

With the laughter came another onslaught of tears.  His knees went weak and he collapsed onto his ass on the side of the road.  He laughed so hard his sides began to cramp, and he held his stomach, rocking back and forth.   Vaguely he realized if anyone drove past right now they would think he was probably a homeless maniac, and that thought just made him laugh harder. 

Again it took a while for him to calm down, and he wiped his cheeks with his shirt sleeve.  "Fuck," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.  He hadn't cried this much in such a short span of time since his mother had died, and he hoped that he wasn't suddenly turning into a giant girl.   

Just in case, he reached between his legs and grabbed his junk.  He found what he expected, thankfully, and that sent him off into another short bout of laughter. 

Yeah, maybe not a girl, but definitely looney. 

Dean reached out and picked up the amulet and pushed himself to his feet.  He bounced it a few times in his palm.  For a brief moment he was tempted to chuck it out into the nearby field.  Instead he tucked it into his pocket as he started walking back to Bobby's.  He may not need to wear it constantly anymore, but it could still protect him from black magic, and he wasn't about to waste a tool like that. 

His mind stuttered a little over "black magic" and he frowned.  Magic was magic right?  A sharp pain in his temple distracted him from the thought and he rubbed at the skin there absently.   

A rumble brought his attention up, and he wasn't surprised to see his Baby's headlights ahead of him.  He'd recognize the sound of her engine anywhere.  He waited until Sam pulled up next to him and then slid into the passenger seat relishing the warmth inside since the temperatures outside were dropping with the sun.  He punched his brother in the arm by way of greeting.  "Who said you could drive my car, sasquatch?" 

"It was either this or the rental." 

Dean wrinkled his nose.  "Yeah, no thanks." 

Sam laughed.  "Thought so."  His smile faded slightly and and he gave Dean a worried glance.  "You okay?" 

Dean settled down into his seat, bracing his knees against the glove box.   

_-Picture yourself in a safe place.  A place you enjoy…_  

_Dean shoved the golden ball of warmth and light into the glovebox... can't let him know yet.  Can't-_  

Dean flinched and rubbed at his temples again.  "I've got a bitch of a headache, but I think I'm going to be fine." 

"You're not uh... freaking out about your eyes anymore?" Sam asked cautiously. 

Flicking a glance at his brother, Dean frowned.  He didn't want to talk about the changes in his body just yet, but he knew Sam wouldn't let it go, and he wasn't sure he had the energy to deal with his passive aggressive inquiries until he got what he wanted.  He let out a huffing sigh, and gestured at his face.  "Yeah, it's fucking weird, you know?  I mean, there's no way I'm going to be able to walk around in public without people noticing this.  What am I gonna do?  Wear sunglasses constantly, like a fucking douchebag?" 

"There's always contacts," Sam suggested. 

Dean gave him a sour look for sounding so reasonable.  He turned his attention back the the road outside.  He really had gotten pretty far, around seven or eight miles.  "There's more," he admitted reluctantly.  He didn't wait for Sam to ask, diving right into the explanation.  "My senses are heightened.  I can see and hear better.  I've got a goddamn bloodhound nose.  And you stink, by the way." 

Sam was unphased by the insult, but he practically vibrated with curiosity.  "Well don't your senses always do that for a little while after you turn back into a human?" 

"Yeah," Dean answered.  "But I haven't been shifted in weeks.  And it's never all my senses at the same time." 

He shifted his hips until he could reach into his pocket.  "There's also this."  He pulled the amulet out, and hung it's strap around the rear view mirror. 

When Sam saw it, he swerved a little.  "Holy shit, Dean!  It worked!" 

The elation Dean had felt earlier bubbled back up inside him and he laughed.  He punched Sam in the leg.  "Don't crash my car, man." 

Sam glanced back and forth between Dean and the road, trying to pay attention, but too excited to keep his eyes forward.  Luckily they had reached Bobby's and he only had to navigate the car back into the front drive.  "Dude!  You're not shifting!" 

"I know," Dean replied on a laugh as the car pulled to a stop.   

"Dude!" 

"I _know!"_  

Sam's grin was so bright that Dean was afraid he might develop a blind spot if he kept looking at him.  "Man, I can't wait to tell Gabe and Cas that it worked!" 

White hot pain stabbed through Dean's temples and he sucked in a desperate breath.  His head slammed back on the seat, his hands clamped around his head. 

"Fuck, Dean I'm sorry!" Sam had scooted toward the middle of the seat and wrapped his large hands around Dean's wrists.  "Don't think about it!  Clear your mind!" 

"Something's... wrong..." Dean managed to grit out between his teeth. 

"I know, Dean.  I know."  Sam's voice was shaking, and he moved his hands to Dean's head, massaging where he could reach between Dean's fingers.  "Dammit, this is my fault.  I shouldn't have- Just clear your mind, Dean.  Stop thinking about what you're thinking about." 

Dean did his best to follow his brother's instructions, but the pain faded slowly.  Nausea rose up in it's place, and he suddenly began to fumble for the door handle.  Sam had to reach across him to release the door, and Dean shoved it open, tumbling out onto the gravel on his hands and knees.  His stomach heaved, but the only thing that came up was bile since he hadn't eaten for who knows how long.   

Eventually the feeling subsided, both in his stomach and his head, and he sat back on his haunches.  He sucked in short breaths of cold air through his mouth, trying to avoid the smell of broken down cars - old oil, and rotting rubber, along with Bobby's dog Tadashi's scent marking all over the damn place - so that his stomach wouldn't rebel again.  

"What the fuck was that?" He mumbled after he wiped his mouth clean on the cuff of his shirt.   

Sam was crouched down next to him, watching him warily.  "How long have you been getting these headaches?" He asked carefully. 

Dean squinted at him.  "You know something." 

Sam pursed his lips and gave a tiny shrug.   

"Is it because my curse was broken?" Dean demanded.  He didn't think so.  He'd been getting headaches off and on since he'd come from home from Utah, but he thought it was just lack of sleep and overindulgence at the bar.  None of them had been this bad. 

Except when that chick had talked to him at the Roadhouse- 

With a hiss, he grabbed his head again.  The pain wasn't as bad and it passed quickly.  He glared up at Sam who still hadn't answered his question.  "Well?" 

For a moment Sam didn't look like he was going to answer.  "It's not because of the curse," he finally said after a moment.   

"But you know what this is?" 

Sam's bitchface was directed inward instead of at Dean.  "I do.  But I can't tell you what it is yet.  Not without making things worse." 

Dean's hand shot out and fisted in the front of Sam's jacket, pulling him closer.  "What does that mean?" 

When Sam still looked undecided about answering, Dean shook him a little.  "Sam.  Tell me." 

"I promise I will as soon as I can," Sam promised.  "Just... not yet."

That answer wasn't good enough, but the headache was amping up again, and Dean didn't have it in him to push it right now.  As soon as he decided to put the subject on the back burner, the pain began to recede.  "Fine," he grumbled.  "But it better be soon." 

The sound of a car pulling into the gravel drive pulled their attention around before Sam could answer.  As soon as Dean saw the beat up old International Scout, the pain burned through his head again.  He closed his eyes against it, but it beat inside his skull along with his heartbeat.  The last thought he had before he lost consciousness was _I know that truck._  

And then he wasn't able to think at all. 


	22. When the Walls Come Down

When the Scout's headlights fell on Sam crouched in the gravel with Dean in his arms, Castiel's heart stopped.  It was a good thing Gabriel was driving because Castiel wasn’t sure he could have even brought the truck to a complete stop before he’d jumped out.  As it was, the wheels were still rolling slowly when he pawed at the door to open it.  Then he was stumbling out of the passenger door, and crossing the distance to drop down next to Sam.  He ignored the warnings Gabriel called after him. 

"I'm sorry," Sam muttered, as he allowed Castiel to pull Dean out of his arms.  "It's my fault.  I got excited, and mentioned your names and-" 

"Shhh, Sam, it is alright.  I will fix this."  Castiel's eyes filled with tears as Dean whimpered and curled into his chest.  Even incoherent with pain, Dean was still seeking him out for comfort.  Touching Dean again felt like revelation.  Despite the fact that Dean had closed up all his mental walls, Castiel could still feel him.   

Due to the strength of their bond, Dean's mental barriers would never again shut Castiel completely out.  And what was flowing from Dean's heart to Castiel's was warmth and welcome.  There was fear and pain as well, which made it difficult to concentrate, but Castiel could do something about that. 

He pulled Dean closer, pressing his lips against to his ear and running his fingers gently through Dean's hair.  "Dean," he said softly.  "Calm down.  Stop digging at the wall, and I'll take it down for you." 

But Dean was struggling too hard against himself to understand what Castiel was telling him.  And every time he pushed at the wall around his memories, it caused him more pain.  Castiel could unravel the spell, but he was still weak and with Dean's emotions battering at him through their bond, he was going to have to go much slower than he normally would in order to avoid damaging Dean's mind. 

Castiel leaned over Dean, pressing their foreheads together.  Dean smelled of sour sweat and vomit, but Castiel still savored the feel of his breath against his own skin.  It had only been a few weeks, but it still felt like an eternity.   

He didn't need physical contact, but because of the delicacy of what he had to do, it helped.  It also calmed his own racing heart when he could feel Dean's sweaty skin against his own.  Anything he could do to center himself would help him concentrate.   

Slowly he expanded his power along with his consciousness until it brushed against Dean's.  He winced as more of Dean's pain poured into him, but he took a fortifying breath and continued his cautious exploration.   

He came up against Dean's blocks, the wards he had manufactured for himself, before he reached the place in Dean's mind locked behind Castiel's spell.  He pushed at them gently, but they were strong and nearly impenetrable, and they kept him from what he needed to do.  "Dean," Castiel murmured.  "I need you to let me in, Dean." 

The body in his arms began to shudder harder, and Dean's head actually jerked side to side as he tried to deny Castiel entrance.   

"Dean," Castiel tried again.  "You don't need to open all the way.  Just let me past enough so that I make the pain go away." He didn't need much leeway, but Dean was completely shut down.  Even their bond didn't allow Castiel past wards that strong.  Anything he did to try and force past them would do just as much damage as the memory block was. 

Castiel pressed as much love and assurance as he could into the bond, hoping that his empathic abilities would strengthen the attempt.  "Please, Dean.  Let me in." 

Slowly, and almost tentatively something opened to him.  Castiel let out a breath of relief and squeezed Dean tighter against his chest.   "Thank you, Dean." 

A tiny tendril of Dean's awareness came across their bond.  It felt curious, yet wary, like Dean was a shy creature scenting him out.  Castiel opened himself, letting Dean feel all the love he had in his heart.  Dean's awareness retreated for a moment, and then surged back, clinging to him.   

Castiel wanted to savor the touch, but he had work to do.  The memory block was still causing him pain, although Dean was fighting against it less which allowed Castiel to concentrate on it more easily.  He slipped past Dean's wards and probed at the memory block.  He had cast this spell countless times over the centuries of his life, but he had never needed to unravel it.  It wasn't as simple as casting another spell to make it go away.  He needed to pick apart the threads of the existing spell, literally unweaving it.  But the threads were made from Dean's own mind, and breaking the strands could damage him irreparably. 

Not for the first time he cursed himself for casting that contract spell.  At the time he had done it to reassure Dean, and he'd had no idea that they would end up here, crouched in the gravel in the cold, while Castiel carefully unraveled the memory spell.  He had not known then that he would come to love Dean so dearly, or that he would be put in a situation where Dean would feel the need to leave him before the contract was up. 

He had only been working for a few minutes, but he was already starting to feel the strain of channeling too much magic too soon.  He reached for power from the nearby plants, but many of them had gone into dormancy for the upcoming winter and held very little power.  He was having to reach further and further.   

He huffed in annoyance.  If only he still had a garden in which to do this.  But his garden in Ogden had been destroyed, and he had yet to create a new one at his new home.   

His thoughts about his garden must have reached through to Dean.  As Castiel worked, an image rose up in his mind of himself kneeling between the rows of tomatoes as he tested the soil and gathered the ripe fruits.  He was humming one of Dean's favorite songs.  Castiel knew the memory was one of Dean's because of the outside view.  He experienced the amused fondness Dean had felt as he watched Castiel.   

As another layer of the spell fell away, more of Dean's hidden memories surfaced for Castiel to witness.  Dean teasing Castiel after giving a tarot reading in the shop.  Dean and Charlie making lists of movies that they wanted Castiel to watch.  Dean poking around in Castiel's library.  Castiel asleep among rumpled sheets as Dean got up to relieve himself early in the morning. 

Every image was simple and mundane, and yet Castiel could feel how happy each one made Dean.  His heart ached that he had taken so much away from Dean by blocking these memories.  He had to force himself to stop paying attention to them as they surfaced in order to concentrate.  But he promised himself and Dean that he would do everything in his very considerable power to never put either of them in this kind of position again.    

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Gabriel asked from somewhere above his shoulder, startling Castiel who had forgotten he was there.  His brother had wanted to teleport them to South Dakota, but Gabriel wasn't still fully recovered from the ordeal with the demons and moving Castiel's home either.   Castiel could feel his frustration over not being able to do more than share driving duties on the unexpected road trip.   

"I just need time-" Castiel began, but he was interrupted when Dean's hand came up to cup the back of his neck. 

"Cas?" 

Castiel had closed his eyes to concentrate, but now he opened them to see Dean's green ones blinking up at him.  He couldn't help the relieved grin that spread across his features.  "Dean," he sighed. 

"I think I missed you," Dean said.  He winced, and Castiel could tell he was still probing at the remaining walls around his memory.  "I can't... remember.  Fuck, my head hurts." 

"I'm working on that, Dean," Castiel answered.  "Just a few more minutes.  I'm almost done." 

"What the fuck are you doing to my son?" 

Castiel's head jerked up as a strong hand shoved at him while pulling Dean out of his arms.  He looked up to see an older man, face grizzled with a beard and distorted with a snarl.  Falling backwards into the gravel was enough to break his concentration and he lost the strands of the spell he'd been gently unraveling. 

Dean let out a loud whine and gripped his head, twitching wildly as the pain returned.   

"Dad!" Sam shouted, grabbing the man when he brought a hand up. 

Castiel saw the flash of light as the headlights from his truck caught the metal of the man's gun.  He didn't have time to react before the gun was pointed straight at his forehead.  Castiel went still, blinking at the older man and trying to stay calm.  With Dean's wards partially lowered, Castiel could feel every ounce of Dean's pain, and it was making him anxious.  He needed to be careful, because he was fairly certain he wouldn’t survive a bullet in the brain. 

"Dad, don't!" Sam tried to get his father to lower the gun, but John shoved at him. 

"Get out of the way, Sammy," the man Castiel now knew to be John Winchester growled.  "I'm not going to let this bastard hurt Dean." 

"He's not hurting him," Sam explained.  "He's healing him." 

John's eyes didn't flicker away from Castiel's for even a second, but his expression turned incredulous.  "What are you talking about?" 

"It is true," Castiel said evenly, holding his hands up placatingly even as he tried not to focus on the gun barrel only inches from his face.  He shot a warning glance at Gabriel.  Now was not a good time to play hero, and his brother nodded imperceptibly that he understood.  "Dean is in pain because of a memory block that he won't stop digging at, and I am trying to remove it." 

"How?" John demanded.  He crouched down over Dean, his free hand sliding through his eldest son's hair, trying to calm him without taking his focus off Castiel.  Dean had always spoken of his father as the cold warrior, only lighting up for Mary Winchester and their boys and then losing that inner fire when Mary died, leaving Dean desperate for whatever affection John would give him.  Castiel had been prepared to dislike John Winchester after hearing the way Dean spoke of him, but the tender way John was trying to sooth his son softened Castiel’s heart toward him. 

"Magic," Castiel answered simply.  He didn’t have time to dance around the subject.  Every moment that John wasted could cause irreparable damage to Dean’s mind. 

Still, it probably wasn't the best thing to tell a Hunter.  John thumbed down the hammer of his gun.  "What are you?" 

"Dad-" Sam tried again. 

"Quiet, Sam." 

"I am a witch," Castiel answered honestly.  "And Dean is my Familiar." 

"What the fuck does that mean?" John snapped. 

"It means that your boy is going to die if you don't let my brother take care of him," Gabriel answered angrily.  "So back the fuck off, and let him do his thing." 

Dean had gone quiet, but he was panting harshly. 

John's dark eyes burned into Castiel, and it was obvious he didn't trust what was happening.  In all honesty, Castiel couldn't blame him.  From what Dean had told him, John had been a Hunter for a long time, and Castiel imagined he'd seen more than his fair share of horrors, including losing his wife on a hunt gone wrong.   

Gently, Castiel pushed his understanding toward John, hoping that the empathic connection would sooth some of his distrust.  It was the wrong thing to do because John snarled at him.  "Get the fuck outta my head." 

"Dad." 

All eyes fell to Dean who was still collapsed in the gravel, John's body leaned over him protectively.   

"Dad, please," Dean rasped.  He sounded young and scared and Castiel hated himself for his part in creating Dean's pain.  "I can't... it hurts..." 

Unnoticed by everyone else, another man had come up behind John and Sam.  He reached down and put a hand on John's shoulder.  His voice was gruff when he spoke.  "You're gonna have to let him do this, John.  Dean's gonna break, and you ain't gonna be able to save him." 

John didn't look at the man, but a muscle in his cheek jumped as he ground his teeth together, and for the first time Castiel could see the family resemblance.  "Bobby, he's a witch." 

"So was Mary," Bobby replied.  "And so's Sam.  You know you can't judge all witches by the monsters you've hunted." 

Sam startled at Bobby's words, and Castiel would have been amused by it if the situation weren't so dire. 

John glanced down at Dean when he let out a soft whimper.  His eyes came back up to level a glare at Castiel.  His gun hadn't wavered in the slightest.  "You can fix this?" 

Castiel nodded, his expression solemn.  He'd already reached back to Dean with his powers and started picking up the strands he'd dropped when John interrupted him.  It was more difficult without physical contact, so he merely held them in an effort to relieve Dean's distress.  He was almost finished, and if John would allow him to continue his work, he could have the block completely removed in a handful of minutes.   

Finally, John lowered the gun, although he didn't put it away.  He stood and backed up a few steps, gesturing at Dean.  "Do your thing, and do it quick."   

There was no hesitation in Castiel's movements as he closed the small distance between himself and Dean and pulled his Familiar into his arms.  Dean curled into him and Castiel held him close again, trying to send as much comfort and reassurance as he could through their bond.  He began unraveling the spell again, taking his time to check each layer as it fell away.   

He tried not to be distracted by the memories that leaked across their bond as they were uncovered.  But he couldn't help but smile when one of a particular intense blowjob surfaced and Dean gasped and shuddered in his arms.   

Only a few minutes later he was banishing the last of the spell.  He loosened his hold on Dean and looked down at him.  Green eyes blinked up at him, wide with what Castiel assumed was shock as the last of the memories fell free of their confines. 

Dean blinked, once, twice, and then a rush of burning rage flooded their bond.  "You son of a bitch!" Dean barked as he scrambled to get out of Castiel's embrace.   

Castiel let him go, although with great reluctance.  He watched as Dean leapt to his feet and backed up a few more steps.  Dean’s eyes flashed gold in the the truck's headlights, and Castiel was awed by the effect.  He didn't have very much time to appreciate their beauty before Dean was shouting at him. 

"You erased my memory, you bastard!" 

Castiel kept silent, refraining from reminding the younger man that he wouldn't have needed to do so if Dean hadn't left him.  They had already had this discussion, and with the block on Dean's memory gone, he would remember that.  Underneath Dean's rage, he could feel tendrils of hurt and doubt, and Castiel knew that Dean just needed to blow off this steam so they could address the real issue.   

Specifically the fact that Dean was still a Familiar.  And now completely bound to Castiel until death, and possibly beyond if Castiel understood the bond's mechanics correctly.   

Dean waited only a few seconds, and his anger only increased when Castiel remained silent.  "I've been in pain for weeks!  I couldn't sleep or eat or... Jesus Christ, Cas!  You've got nothing to say for yourself?" 

"I'm here now, Dean," Castiel answered simply.  He braced a hand on the Impala and pushed himself to his feet.  His knees popped, and one of his feet began to tingle as blood rushed back to it.  He hadn't realized how long he had been kneeling in the gravel.  He probably had a few bruises from the rocks digging into his knees, although they would fade almost immediately. 

Dean just stared at him, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth together.  After a moment, he exploded again.  "What the hell took you so long?" 

Castiel blinked.  That hadn't been a question he had been expecting.  He hesitated over his answer, but he couldn't stay silent anymore under Dean's angry glare.  "I thought you wanted to be free of me," he said softly, his voice breaking on the last few words when he remembered the way Dean had looked at him that day he'd walked out of Castiel's home and his life.  He couldn't stop the threads of accusation in his tone when he spoke again.  "You left, Dean." 

Rolling his eyes in an exaggerated move that turned him away from Castiel, Dean walked away a few steps.  He spun around again and jabbed a finger in Castiel's direction.  "You need to leave.  I can't deal with-" he cut off with a bitter laugh and waved a hand around, indicating everyone standing around watching the argument unfold.   

Fear that Dean would cut him from his life permanently despite their bond made the hair stand up on the back of Castiel's neck.  He licked his lips, and stepped forward.  "Dean, I-" 

"No, Cas," Dean grit out.  "Not right now." 

And then Castiel felt something gentle and warm come through the bond.  It was hesitant, but he recognized it for the olive branch that it was.   

 _Give me some time, Cas.  I just can't do this right now._  

Castiel nodded, swallowed around the lump in his throat, and answered out loud.  His voice was hoarse from trying to hold back the emotions that roiled inside him.  Dean wasn’t turning him away permanently.  He just needed space, and that was something Castiel could give him, despite how hard his soul seemed to scream out against any further separation.  "Of course, Dean." 

He took a few steps back, still watching Dean.  Hurt stabbed through him when Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.  The tiny channel he'd left open in his wards closed, but not before Castiel caught another flash of something warm.  He kept his own wards open wide for Dean, showing him his trust and yes, even his love. 

Dean shot him an unreadable look, but he looked away again. 

Castiel held his hand out to Gabriel, who passed him his keys.  He didn't pay any attention when Sam and Gabriel spoke quietly for a few moments while he settled himself behind the wheel of his truck and watched Dean, hoping for another chance to see the flash of gold reflected in the headlights.  

By the time Gabriel had joined him in the car, and Castiel was pulling out of Bobby's drive, Dean still hadn't looked his way.  But Castiel refused to lose hope.  He would give Dean his time.  After all, Castiel was nearly immortal.  Time was something he had plenty of. 

 

\-----

 

Dean listened to the crunch of gravel as the Scout pulled away.  Every fiber of his being wanted to run after Castiel.  The familiar tug he'd always felt around the witch intensified with every minute the space between them grew. 

Behind him, he could hear Sam confronting their dad and Bobby about the fact that they knew he was a witch.  Dean only listened with half an ear.  It didn't surprise him to find out that John and Mary had kept the knowledge from him in an attempt to keep him away from black magic.

Dean snorted.  As much as he loved his parents, sometimes they made stupid decisions. 

At least he knew where he got it from. 

He turned his attention back to the road, now completely dark except for a pool of light under a street lamp right at the edge of Bobby's drive.  He couldn't hear the Scout's engine anymore, and that caused the ache in his chest to bloom.  It had receded completely while in Castiel's presence, but he hadn't noticed because he'd been too busy fighting the damn block on his memory.   

Now that it was gone, he could finally think clearly.  At least he could if he wasn't still fighting down rage that Castiel had wiped his memory anyway.  Especially since he'd been on his way back.  He'd changed his mind about leaving, but Castiel hadn't given him enough time to get back to him, the fucker.   

Logically he knew he was pissed off for a stupid reason, which is why he asked for time to cool down.  He thought a little space would be all he needed.  And a drink.  A strong one.  Maybe followed by a few more.  Or definitely several. 

He spun on a heel and started walking toward the house, intent on finding Bobby’s stash, but he stopped.  His eyes landed on John and Sam, in each other's faces, with Bobby trying to keep either of them from taking a swing.   

"It doesn't matter!" Sam was shouting.  "Even if I wasn't a witch, I would go to him.  I'm _with_ Gabriel, dad!" 

"That's bullshit," John snapped.  "You've never had an eye for men.  What you're feeling is just-" 

"Don't you dare say it," Sam snarled, getting right up in his face. 

“If he’s a witch, he’s probably put a spell on you.”  John didn’t back down from his youngest son, despite being several inches shorter.   

“I swear, if you weren’t my father…” Sam growled between gritted teeth. 

“You’d what?  Hex me?” 

Dean rolled his eyes.  He did not welcome this distraction from his quest for alcohol.  On any other day, he would have jumped right into the middle of their squabble and broken it up.  But Bobby was there, and Dean was just tired enough of their bullshit, that he was going to let Bobby handle it this time. 

He stalked past his arguing family, but was stopped with his fingers on the door handle by John’s angry voice.  “Just where the hell do you think you’re going?  I want to know what is going on with this business about you being that man’s ‘Familiar’.” 

Despite the fact that the waves of pain no longer felt like they were trying to steamroll his brain, Dean still had a slight headache.  He was tired, his muscles ached from running, his throat was sore from what he assumed was a shitload of screaming.  He wanted to drink himself into oblivion and think about all of this bullshit later.  “Not right now, Dad.” 

But apparently John had decided that yelling at Sam wasn’t doing any good, so it was Dean’s turn.  He shoved past Bobby and Sam, his long strides carrying him up the porch steps until he was too far in Dean’s personal space.  “Yes, right now.  Tell me how you know this guy, and I want to know everything.  Now.” 

It was all just too much.  The physical discomfort, the emotional aftermath of seeing Castiel again, first being ecstatic, and then remembering all the best reasons to be pissed at him.  And now his dad was getting in his face, and he _just wanted a fucking drink._  

Dean bared his teeth in a snarl, jutting his face towards his dad’s and taking a sick sort of satisfaction in seeing his eyes widen as he stumbled back a step.  He felt his teeth lengthen in his mouth, the sharp tips of his canines bit into his lips as he spoke, but he was beyond caring at the moment.  He already knew his body was different.  Adding a set of fancy chompers to the list was not really something he cared about right now. 

“You want to know what’s going on?” he bit out angrily.  “Fine.  I’ll tell you.  Castiel was my mark.  I was supposed to kill him.  But instead I ended up getting to know the guy.  And we spent weeks fucking before shit hit the fan and I left him when I should have stayed.” 

John’s eyes, which had dropped down to Dean’s teeth, snapped up to meet his.   

Dean almost wanted to laugh at the incredulous look in his father’s eyes, but he didn’t because he was on a roll.  “I _left_ him, and it was the dumbest goddamn thing I’ve ever done in my life.  Because he is everything to me.  Do you understand?  Everything.  I would die for him.” 

He cut off, his breathing harsh.  Tears pricked at the back of his eyes.  He’d left.  And Castiel had let him.  Cas was the most powerful witch Dean had ever even _heard_ of.  He could have forced Dean to stay by his side.  He probably could have used their link against him somehow.  But he hadn’t.  He had let Dean go, because that’s the kind of man he was.  He cared about Dean, and he wanted him to have his freedom, because it was what _Dean_ had wanted. 

If it hadn’t been for their fucking bond, Dean would have gone on his merry way, without a shred of thought about what he had left behind.  But Castiel would have lived the rest of his life with that heart break, loving Dean and not having him. 

And he did love Dean.  He’d let the love flow through their bond just minutes ago, and Dean had felt it down to his very core.  It was warmth and light and comfort and home and Dean _craved it._  It was the same thing he’d kept buried deep within himself in that imaginary glove box, afraid to let Castiel see.  Afraid to trust him with his heart.   

Which was ridiculous.  Castiel _loved_ him.  He showed it in so many ways.  Keeping Dean’s favorite foods and coffees stocked in the house.  Letting him keep Castiel awake until ridiculous hours of the night watching corny eighties movies, and bad sci fi even on nights when he had to be up early to run the shop the next day.  Touching Dean like he was something special.  Not a monster.  Not a weird animal hybrid.   

Even Castiel’s words showered him with love.  Castiel’s _‘Of course, Dean’,_ it was his version of ‘ _As you wish’_. 

Dean suddenly let out a sobbing laugh, which he muffled against his fist.  God, he was such an idiot.  He didn’t need a drink.  He needed _Castiel._  

Who probably needed a stiff drink after tonight as well.  They could share one, as soon as Dean tracked him down. 

Ignoring the fact that his dad was eyeing him like a lunatic, Dean pushed past him.  He strode past Bobby and Sam, towards the Impala. 

“Where are you going?” John demanded.   

“To fix what I broke,” Dean called over his shoulder.  He stopped just inside the Impala’s open door and looked at his brother.  “You coming, Sammy?” 

Sam broke into a wide grin and nodded eagerly before quickly making his way to the passenger door, and sliding in beside Dean. 

“Hey kid!”  Bobby called just before Dean slammed the door closed.  He smiled warmly when Dean paused to look back at him.  “Good luck.” 

Dean grinned, suddenly feeling light now that he had made his decision to catch up with Castiel.  “Thanks, Bobby.”  He turned to look at his dad, who still looked angry, but now it was mostly resignation in his expression. 

John sighed and waved a hand at him dismissively.  “Yeah, whatever.  Just… be safe.  Both of you.” 

“We will, Dad,” Sam called over Dean’s shoulder.   

Dean just nodded and gave his dad a half smile.  Things with his dad were probably going to be strained for a while.  They were going to have to talk about the fact that John knew Mary and Sam were witches at some point, because really?  What the hell was up with that?  And there was the whole, Dean and Sam were dating men.  That had to be throwing their dad for a loop.  So he could understand John’s reluctance, and appreciated the fact that he was letting them go without more of a fight. 

He chuckled as he pulled the door shut and started the engine.   

Sam lifted an eyebrow at him from the passenger seat.  “Care to share the joke?” 

Dean cast him a grin as he began guiding his car out onto the road, pressing the gas pedal down and quickly blowing past the local speed limit in an effort to catch up with Castiel’s old Scout.  “It’s just funny, y’know.  Finding out that Dad and Bobby knew mom was a witch.  Falling in love with witches seems to be a Winchester family trait.” 

Sam stared at him for a moment, before he snorted a laugh.  “Yeah, dad’s gonna have to explain that to me eventually.” 

“Right?” Dean laughed as he sped up. 

Finding Castiel wasn’t hard.  Dean opened himself up and let himself feel the witch.  He hadn’t gotten far, probably wasn’t even going the speed limit.  Dean reached out across the bond. 

 _Cas?_  

 _Dean?_  

There was so much hope and fear in that single word, and Dean wanted to banish all of the fear.   _Cas, pull over.  I’m on my way to you right now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I *think* I have two more chapters to go. ALMOST DONE :D
> 
> Also, no spoilers for yesterday's episode, but PRINCESS BRIDE REFERENCE OMG!!! I'd been planning mine since the beginning, and then the show made a reference and I FLIPPED OUT!!


	23. Reunited

 

When Dean caught sight of the Scout pulled over on the side of the road, his heart, which had been trying to beat its way out of his chest already, sped up even more.  He'd be lying if he said there wasn't any fear behind it, but it was mostly excited anticipation.  Castiel had left his connection open, and Dean could still feel him. 

Castiel's emotions were a jumble of hope, and nervousness that made Dean want to laugh because it was exactly what he was feeling.  And behind it all was that warmth that Dean only recognized it because it was the same thing he'd been hiding within himself for months now. 

The only thing that kept him from laughing out loud was Sam's presence.  He was afraid it would be more than a little hysterical, and the last thing he needed was Sam being worried about him.   

The Impala slid a little in the dirt next to the road as Dean brought her to a stop behind Castiel's truck.  The Scout's door was already being flung open, and Castiel was out of the vehicle.  Dean didn't even turn off his own engine.  He got out and strode toward Castiel who had paused near the back of the Scout, his eyes wide and uncertain. 

Dean closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Castiel's shoulders, pulling him close.  He lowered his wards, even the one hiding his deepest secrets, and buried his face against Castiel's neck.  He took a deep breath, pulling in the scent of herbs and the tang of magic and _Cas._  

Now that he was touching Castiel again, tears welled up in his eyes but he couldn't stop grinning.  And when Castiel's arms came up to wrap around his back, he finally felt that ache behind his sternum fade away. 

He was finally where he needed to be.  He was home. 

The tangle of Castiel's emotions whirled around - hope, shock, curiosity.  Dean felt the moment when Castiel realized what Dean was allowing him to see, and his knees almost collapsed as wave after wave of intense joy flooded their bond. 

Castiel's fingers curled tightly into the back of Dean's shirt, and his breath hitched.  "Dean." 

"Hello, Cas."  Dean loosed his grip and straightened so he could look down at Castiel.  The familiar blue glow in Castiel's eyes made his grin widen.  He hadn't realized how much he'd missed that because the memory had been hidden away from him. 

The reminder of what had been taken from him brought some of his irritation back, although he was no longer outright angry.  But he glared at Castiel anyway.  "Don't think I'm letting you off the hook for everything that went down," he warned.  "That shit was not cool." 

Castiel's smile dimmed slightly and he dropped his eyes to Dean's collarbone.  "Of course, Dean-" 

Dean's lips twitched in an effort to hide how much he enjoyed those words. 

"-but I won't promise I'll never take that kind of risk again."  Castiel's eyes came up and blazed at him angrily.  The fierce determination in his expression was echoed through their bond.  "I do not wish to lose my soul to black magic.  And I have no wish to lose you.  Please know that I will never risk that."  He paused, tilted his head to the side slightly (and yeah, that was never going to stop being adorable), one corner of his mouth quirking up in a tiny smile.  "And you should remember that I have enough experience to know what I'm doing." 

Dean finally let loose the grin he'd been fighting to contain.  "Is that your way of telling me to 'shut up, you damn kid'?" 

Castiel's smile widened, and Dean caught a flash of his teeth in the Impala's headlights.  "Close enough." 

Resisting the temptation to kiss that smile away required far more energy and willpower than Dean possessed, so he bent his head enough to capture Castiel's mouth with his own.  He breathed in Castiel's happy exhale, and deepened the kiss.  God he'd missed this.   

And not just the kissing, although when Castiel's tongue curled against his own, Dean was reminded that he was _really glad_ that he would get as many kisses as he wanted from now on.  No, he'd missed Castiel's soul touching his own, not knowing where one of them ended and the other began.  Now that he'd lowered all his wards, including that tiny glove box where he'd held his love in secret, he never wanted to raise them again.   

It was exactly like all those sappy love stories talked about.  Dean had found his other half.  The idea that he would have lost this made him whimper and pull his witch closer.  Even thinking about the possibility that he would never have had this made him frantic.  He would need to remember to thank Sam for putting him under that damn curse in the first place, because he would have never become an expert Witch Hunter, and he would never have crossed Castiel's path.  Even if for some reason he had, he wouldn't have had any reason to make a deal with him, and Castiel would have sent him off with a blank spot in his memory and they wouldn't have _this._  

Yeah, he was going to have to buy Sammy a thank you card.  Definitely. 

A throat cleared behind him, reminding him that his brother was still there, along with Castiel's brother.  Reluctantly he released Castiel's lips and turned to find the two of them leaning against the Scout, with nearly identical smirks. 

Dean glared at them, but didn't loosen his hold on Castiel by much, only giving him enough slack to breath normally.  Castiel pressed his face against Dean's neck for a moment to catch his breath, while Dean confronted Sam and Gabriel.  "How about you two jokers take a hike and give us a little privacy, huh?" 

Gabriel snorted a laugh, and then blew a bubble with the gum he'd been chewing loudly.  "You do realize you're standing out in the middle of the road, right?  Maybe you two should get a room."  Next to him, Sam grinned even wider, nodding emphatic agreement. 

Castiel began fumbling around, and without looking up, tossed his keys to Gabriel, who caught them easily.  "You two can take the Scout," he grumbled.  "I'm staying with Dean."   

Gabriel twirled the keys around his fingers a few times before snapping them into his palm.  "You got it, little brother!"  He turned to look up at Sam.  "Your place or mine, handsome?" 

Sam straightened, towering over the other witch.  "How do you feel about meeting my dad?  Properly, this time." 

"Do I have to?" Gabriel pouted slightly. 

"Naw," Sam answered with a shrug.  "But I'm looking forward to how uncomfortable this-" he swung a hand back and forth between them, "-is going to make him." 

Gabriel tsked.  "You're a bad son." 

Sam just laughed and nudged their shoulders together, a great feat considering the difference in their height.  "Let's get out of here before these two kill us."  He paused long enough to cast a teasing grin in Dean's direction.   

Dean scowled at him, but there was no heat behind it.  He flipped Sam off when his brother gave him a cheeky wave.  He tugged Castiel out of the way as the Scout pulled away and turned around to head back to Bobby's. 

 

\----

 

Sam twisted in his seat to get a last glimpse of his brother as the Scout pulled away.  “Think they’ll make it to a motel?” 

Gabriel laughed and reached over to slide his hand from Sam’s knee, up to the junction of his thigh, one finger brushing lightly against sensitive flesh.  “Hell no.  They’re going to defile the back seat of that car.” 

Wrinkling his nose in mock horror, Sam shifted his hips.  It was an invitation that Gabriel took, moving his fingers in light patterns over the denim of Sam’s jeans.  “I’ll make sure Dean cleans that car before I get in it again.” 

The look Gabriel shot him was downright wicked.  “Or we could find a nice spot to pull over, and defile Cassie’s truck.  Turnabout’s fair play, and all that.”  Then he frowned in mock worry.  “Unless you still want to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing.” 

Sam grinned.  “I know a great place.”  His hips rocked up when Gabriel squeezed him gently.   

 

\----

 

"Should we go back too?" Castiel asked as he watched their retreating tail lights.  "I'm afraid your father already thinks the worst of me-" 

Dean cut him off. "Hell no.  You and I have some unfinished business."  He ignored Castiel's confused frown and dragged him toward the Impala's back door.   

He opened it and sat down in the seat before he pulled Castiel in with him.  Castiel let out a surprised grunt when Dean dropped backwards, jerking Cas down on top of him, but it was muffled when Dean smashed their mouths together. 

The kiss was rough, and completely lacking in finesse.  But joy bloomed inside of Dean as Castiel shifted, settling his weight over him.  He dug his fingers into Castiel’s hair, tugging at the dark strands and making them stand out in all directions.  Castiel retaliated by biting Dean’s bottom lip. 

A laugh bubbled up inside him.  God, he’d almost lost this.  He’d nearly walked away twice just because of his stupid fucking temper.  “Never again,” he muttered between kisses.  “Never again, Cas.” 

When Castiel’s hands slipped between them and cupped Dean’s hardness through his jeans, all the air left Dean’s lungs, and he continued the litany without speaking. 

 _Never gonna leave you again, Cas.  I’m sorry.  God, I’m so sorry._  

Castiel broke the kiss and leaned up enough to look down at Dean.  His eyes were bright blue, illuminating the inside of the car.  The hand stroking Dean’s dick disappeared, but Dean barely noticed.  Not when Castiel was looking at him with so much tenderness.   

“Dean,” Castiel murmured.  He brushed his lips over Dean’s once, just a feather’s touch.  “You have no reason to be sorry.  I understand why you were angry with me.” 

“But I shouldn’t have left-” 

“I should have come after you,” Castiel interrupted.  He ran a thumb along the edge of Dean’s jaw, and it tickled as his nail caught on the stubble.   

Dean snorted.  “Yeah.  You should have.”  They were both silent for a moment as they considered what they both almost lost.  But Dean didn’t want to think about it anymore.  Castiel was here now, they were together. 

He narrowed his eyes at Castiel in a mock glare.  “Dude, you even erased the sexy stuff.  That was just low, man.” 

Castiel laughed, and Dean beamed up at him.  He loved to see Castiel’s joy; the way his nose crinkled and his eyes lit up even more sent warmth zinging throughout Dean’s whole body, coalescing somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.   

“Yes, that was rather rude of me,” Castiel finally said when he’d calmed down.  Then he pressed his hips down, and the mood between them shifted from light and playful to something more serious.  “I could make it up to you by giving you more sexy memories.” 

Dean’s dick was definitely on board with that idea.  “Deal.” 

And then they were kissing again.  They explored each other’s bodies, relearning each other’s curves and angles.  Dean was pleased when Castiel’s stomach muscles still jerked when he ran his fingers over the sensitive area below his belly button.  Castiel growled darkly when he bit down on Dean’s shoulder through his t-shirt right where he was most sensitive. 

Clothing was pushed out of the way, allowing skin to press against sweaty skin.  Cold air filled the car through the open door where their feet hung out, but neither of them felt it.  The warmth inside their hearts flowed between them and it was enough to banish the chill.   

When Castiel managed to shove Dean’s pants and boxers down far enough to free his hard dick from the tight confines, Dean sighed in relief.  He rocked his hips up, relishing the friction of his skin against Castiel’s lightly haired belly. 

“Cas,” Dean groaned.  “Fuck, I want to be inside you.” 

Castiel suddenly pushed himself up with his hands braced on either side of Dean’s head on the seat.  “Please tell me you have lube.” 

He didn’t, not at the moment.  He wasn’t exactly expecting to get laid tonight.  “Fuck,” he grunted, lifting his head and dropping it back down on the seat with a thump.  “No, I’m not prepared.” 

Castiel studied him thoughtfully for a moment.  Despite being able to feel Castiel’s emotions, Dean wasn’t catching his thoughts because they were spinning so quickly.  He did catch an image of Cas sucking his cock until it was slick with spit and then sinking down on him.  It was enough to make him roll his hips up against Castiel’s ass.  Which was still clothed, dammit.   

“Don’t you dare, Cas,” Dean managed to grit out.  “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“I’ll heal,” Castiel protested. 

“No.”  He pushed himself into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s hips.  “No,” he repeated in a soft growl as he pressed gentle kisses against Castiel’s mouth.  “I wanna do this right, Cas.” 

A moan rumbled up from Castiel’s throat, and Dean almost laughed at the frustration that raged through the bond.  “Gods, I wish I was back at full power so I could just take us straight home,” he said between kisses.  “Being too weak to light a candle is driving me mad.” 

Dean pulled back at that, and moved to avoid Castiel when he tried to lean in for more kissing.  “What?  What’s wrong with your power, Cas?” 

Castiel huffed in annoyance but stopped trying to capture Dean’s mouth.  He looked away, and the light in his eyes dimmed.  “I’m afraid I have overtaxed myself.  It will take some time for my magic to build back up to where it was.  Especially now that I no longer have my garden.” 

“Your garden?” At first he was confused, but then the memories that Dean had been unable to access drifted forward and he remembered the dead grass and bushes in Castiel’s back yard when he’d stormed out.  He had barely been paying attention at the time because so much had been happening, and then he’d been too angry to notice.  “It’s gone?” 

Castiel nodded and sat back on Dean’s thighs.  The sudden space between them reminded Dean of how chilly it was outside, and that his pants were still pulled down around his hips.  But he made no move to cover himself.  Not from Cas.  He left his emotions bare to the man, so a little bare skin made no difference anymore.  

“The exorcism I performed requires a lot of power for just one demon, but for two…” His fingers trailed along the outside of Dean’s bare hip.  “I was already tired from everything before, and then blocking your memories-” he cut off and turned away.  “I’ve regained some of my power over the last few weeks, but it has been a slow recovery.  And what little I had built back up, I used today to remove the block from your memory.” 

Dean caught Castiel’s hand and brought it up to press his lips against the tips of his fingers.  “You can’t pull a little magic from me?” 

Castiel shook his head.  “The curse is gone, and while you and I still have the Familiar bond, you are not quite the same as you were, Dean.  I am not sure what you are now, but whatever you are, I am no longer able to channel magic through you.” 

Dean remembered the feel of fangs inside his mouth, and the flash of gold when the light hit his eyes at the right angle.  Not to mention the eerily enhanced strength and senses he seemed to possess now.  He could literally hear Castiel’s heartbeat, and even though it was fully dark, Dean could see as clearly as if it were daylight.  Plus he could - he inhaled deeply through his nose - smell how aroused Castiel had become while they were groping each other like teens.  Earlier he’d been freaked out by the changes in himself, and he might still have been if he didn’t sense Castiel’s complete love and acceptance of him.   

“Huh,” he grunted quietly.  “Well that sucks.  Sorry, Cas.  If I’d known, I would have kept the curse.” 

He was surprised at himself when the words came out of his mouth.  But only for a moment.  He hadn’t really felt cursed when he was Castiel.  It had felt more like a blessing. 

One he couldn’t really control, but a blessing nonetheless. 

Castiel smiled, and it was the special one that Dean loved the most.  It was soft, and warm, and full of love and pride.  “Dean.  I love you, and want you in my life.  Cursed, or not.” 

Dean felt the telltale prickle of tears behind his eyes and he blinked rapidly a few times to fend them off.  He dropped his head forward, pressing his face against Castiel’s chest, and his voice was gruff when he spoke.  “I love you too, Cas.” 

Strong, slender fingers combed through his hair, and Dean let out a low sound that was almost a purr.  His arousal had flagged while they spoke, but the touch brought it back.  But instead of a raging inferno, it was just a warm tingle under his skin.    

“Well,” he said after a moment.  “If you can’t zap us home, how about we go find a motel and have loud obnoxious sex?” 

Castiel chuckled.  “I believe that is an excellent plan.” 

It took a little bit of scrambling, but they were soon fully dressed again and in the front seat.  Dean kept sneaking glances at Castiel, afraid that he was dreaming and at any moment he would disappear.  But he could feel Castiel next to him, and not just because he reached out and slid his palm over Castiel’s thigh.  He could _feel_ him.  His soul was a bright beacon next to him.   

Yeah, Dean could get used to this bond thing.

 

\-----

 

Stopping at the store for supplies before they found a motel had been sheer torture, especially with Castiel pressed into his side, oblivious of the amused looks the girl ringing up their purchases was giving them.   

Dean had just winked at her and allowed Castiel's hands to wander.  The checker didn't mind, and Dean certainly didn't care if he scarred any of the store's other patrons for life. 

Driving to the motel had been more difficult because Castiel had stayed on his side of the car, but he'd sent Dean dirty images, one after another, of all the things he wanted to do to Dean.  It had been distracting enough that Dean had almost blown past a stop sign more than once. 

The motel was a little nicer than what Dean had become used to, but Castiel had insisted.  And Dean wasn't going to argue.  Especially not as Castiel pushed him down on the mattress that didn't have lumps and broken springs to dig into his back.   

They were both already naked, their clothes abandoned in small piles on the way to the bed because Cas had started stripping them both down as soon as the door closed behind them.  Castiel crawled over him straddling his hips and grinding down against him.  Dean made a low keening sound, which Castiel rewarded by wrapping strong fingers around his cock.   

They were not taking it slow, not after weeks of separation and suffering without each other's presence.  Part of Dean wanted to stop Castiel, to turn down the speed and do this right.  But he could feel how frantic Castiel was to join their bodies, and honestly Dean was on board with that. 

A harsh buzz of arousal had been simmering under his skin for the last half hour, and Dean was done waiting.  He wanted to be inside Castiel now. 

Dean moaned, and arched against the bed, pushing up into Castiel’s tight fist.  "Fuck, Cas." 

"My turn first," Castiel rasped.  He didn't sound like he was teasing. He’d had the presence of mind to grab the bottle of lube from the grocery bag (they’d gotten snacks and drinks too, on Castiel’s insistence that they would definitely be needed later).  He popped the cap open and smeared a liberal amount over his fingers before reaching between his legs. 

Dean snaked his arm between them and found Castiel’s hole with his own fingers, sliding one in between the two Castiel had already speared himself open with.  His dick twitched at the wrecked sound Cas made.  A few moments later, he slid in a second finger at Castiel’s prompting.  Cas was tight around both their fingers, but Dean could sense that there was no pain, not even a slight burn, because Castiel’s mind was wide open to him, and he was sharing every sensation. 

The sense of being penetrated, even though Castiel was the one being spread open had Dean hard as granite, and since he knew Castiel was ready for him, he pulled his hand free.  When he grabbed Castiel’s hips and lifted him, Cas took the hint and grabbed Dean’s cock, guiding it to his slick opening. 

They both let out a moan as Dean began to sink into Castiel’s ass.  Dean shared the feel of Castiel’s tight muscles squeezing him and grinned wickedly when Castiel let out a breathy curse. 

And then Castiel was moving.  Rocking, bouncing, clenching.  And Dean was lost to it.  Lost to the feel of their bodies connected, their souls wrapping around each other as tightly as their fingers curling together above his head. 

With all of their barriers completely open to each other, all Dean could feel was love and lust and joy and he knew he was ruined for masturbation forever.   

Castiel must have caught that stray thought because he chuckled darkly and sent an image of them sitting at opposite ends of the couch, watching each other jack off. 

 _Okay, so not completely ruined_.  Dean was too out of breath for actual words, but Castiel heard the thought loud and clear if the delighted humor trickling through the other emotions flooding their bond was any indication. 

Dean worked a hand loose from Castiel’s grip and reached down to stroke Castiel’s dick, wanting to make him as frantic with lust as he was.  But it only took a few strokes before Castiel’s whole body locked up, and he was coming, his seed hot against Dean’s skin. It was enough to pull Dean across the threshold with him, and he yelled out as he emptied himself inside Castiel. 

Cas collapsed on top of him, oblivious to the slick mess smearing between their chests.  As Dean thrust into him deeply, wringing out the last of his orgasm, a litany of _I love you, Dean_ , _Gods, I love you, I love you, I love you_ poured through the bond. 

And Dean echoed it.   _I love you, Cas.  I love you, I love you._  

They fell asleep like that, the warmth of their love flowing back and forth between the bond, their bodies still joined, and their souls entwined.

 

\----

 

Castiel was warm despite the fact that the covers had been kicked off the bed.  Almost a little too warm where he was wrapped around Dean.  The other man's thick fur was soft against his stomach though, and Castiel pulled him closer, nuzzling against one of Dean's soft, floppy ears. 

Fur?  Floppy ears? 

Castiel's eyes snapped open and he jerked back so that he could get a good look at Dean.  He had fallen asleep with a very human Dean, but now, he was sharing the bed with a very large Irish Setter.   

The movement woke Dean who blinked his eyes sleepily.  They were green, with flecks of gold around the center of the iris, just like when he was in human form.   _Cas?  What's-_  

When Dean started to sit up, he finally realized he wasn't human anymore.  He let out a yelp and and flailed around in surprise.  The bed wasn't nearly large enough for that, and he ended up rolling off the bed with a loud thump, making Castiel wince in sympathy.   

"What, the _fuck?_ " Dean snapped. 

Shocked to hear Dean's human voice, Castiel sat up and leaned over to see Dean, human again and still gloriously nude, pushing himself to a sitting position on the floor.  "Good morning, Dean." 

Dean's eyes snapped up to his.  There was a sliver of light coming through a crack in the dark drapes over the window, and it was just enough to make the green of his irises flash gold for a second as it caught them at just the right angle.  He was panting as if he had run a marathon, and Castiel could almost feel the adrenaline pumping through him as his panic flooded their bond.  "Was I... was I a dog just a minute ago?" 

If he didn't calm down, he was going to start hyperventilating, so Cas sent a tendril of love and comfort through their bond.  He was pleased when it seemed to help, although unsurprised that Dean was still upset.  "An Irish Setter," he answered calmly.  "A beautiful breed." 

The incredulous look Dean gave him almost made him laugh, but he held it in.  He also refrained from pointing out that Dean wasn't crazy, because he doubted Dean would take his teasing very well at the moment.  Instead he waited for the turmoil of emotions and thoughts he sensed to calm down. 

After a moment, Dean's breathing began to return to normal.  He was staring down at his hands, flipping them back and forth, then running them over his torso and legs as if he wasn't sure his human body was real.  "Dammit, Cas, I thought the curse was gone," he finally muttered after a moment. 

"It is," Castiel answered.  He reached down and caught one of Dean's hands, tugging until he took the hint and got up off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.  Castiel took a moment to admire his naked beauty before looking up into confused green eyes.  "But you're not human." 

"So, what does this mean?" Dean demanded.  His panic was completely gone now, replaced with irritation.  "Am I going to just pop into a random animal body whenever?"  He flicked the horned-head amulet that he'd put on when they left the Impala.  "This damn thing obviously isn't helping anymore." 

Castiel reached out and lifted the pendant.  He could still feel the protection spell laced through it.  "It only protects against black magic.  Without the curse, it no longer has anything to protect you from." 

Dean made an angry sound and got up to pace back and forth.  He ran both hands through his hair in agitation leaving the short golden strands spiked out in every direction.  "So why was I a dog?" 

Watching the muscles of Dean's ass flex as he walked was quickly becoming one of Castiel's favorite views, and he had seen many beautiful people, places, and things in his very long lifetime.  "What were you dreaming about?" He asked as he settled himself back against the headboard with the pillows stacked behind his back.   

Dean didn't stop his pacing to look at him, but his expression turned thoughtful as he tried to remember.  "I think I was chasing something." 

"Was it a cat?" Castiel chuckled when Dean shot him a glare.  He held up his hands, palms out in a sign of surrender.  "Sorry." 

"You think I dreamed myself into a dog?" Dean asked, still pacing, but slower as his thoughts distracted him from his body's movement. 

"It seems logical.  You appear to still have the ability to shift forms."   

Dean stopped and gave him a look full of horror.  "Yeah, okay, I get that.  But what if I can't control it?" 

That horror seeped through their bond, and hit Castiel like a punch to the chest.  He rolled forward, and crawled to the end of the bed where he knelt and held out his arms to Dean.  The other man didn’t hesitate to step close, and Castiel wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.  He rubbed his face against Dean’s chest, gently to avoid stubble burn. 

“Dean, you are remarkably strong willed, and your mind is more powerful than you think.”  It was the simple truth.  Castiel rarely encountered mental blocks as strong as what Dean had put up against him, even among the few experienced telepaths and empaths he had encountered over his long lifetime.  “It may take you some time, but I believe you will be able to control it.” 

It took a few minutes for Dean’s fear to recede, and Castiel could still feel his uncertainty, but Dean’s body relaxed against him.  “You really think so?” 

Castiel answered with a nod, and pressed a kiss to one of Dean’s ribs.  Dean returned his embrace, strong arms wrapping around Castiel’s shoulders and pulling him close.  Gratitude and love flickered brightly through the bond, and Castiel smiled.  He didn’t know how he had ever lived without this kind of connection before.  Being able to communicate without words like this - knowing his lover’s emotions, and even catching his thoughts - was extremely comforting. 

“I’ll help you.”  He lifted his head enough to look up at Dean, whose eyes had caught the light again and were glimmering gold.   

That was an interesting side effect of the last remaining bits of the curse, and Castiel marveled at how beautiful it was.  He would probably have to conjure some type of spell to hide the effect from normal humans, because he’d noticed a few strange looks Dean had received from people in the grocery store, and the motel manager as well.  But he resolved to find a spell that would allow him to see past the glamour, because he loved the way they flashed in the light. 

Dean gave him a relieved smile.  The last of his anxiety drained out of the bond and he relaxed in Castiel’s arms.  “Thanks, Cas.” 

“Of course, Dean.”  He didn’t quite understand why Dean started to laugh, but he smiled and pressed his face into Dean’s chest, and enjoyed the beat of Dean’s heart against his cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Are you excited? I'm excited :D


	24. An Epilogue, but Not An End.

Dean pressed his nose closer to the ground, doing his best not to sneeze as he tried to pick up the trail he'd been following.  The damn werewolf must have figured out he was being followed and was doing his best to cover his tracks.  Dean lifted his head and looked around.  The alley wasn't a dead end, but he doubted the monster he'd been hunting for the last few days had exited at the other side.  There was a fire escape ladder up to the right just before the alley opened up onto a main road.   

Baring his canines in a wide doggy grin, he trotted toward it, nails clicking on the blacktop.   _Not smart, dude.  Getting yourself trapped on a roof is a rookie move._  

He could try to shift into something with wings and fly up there, but he wanted to check the scent trail first.  Wasting his time going up to the roof would just make the trail fainter if the werewolf wasn’t up there, and he was already having a hard time finding it through the jumbled city smells.  For now he’d stay in his German Shepherd body and wait for backup. 

 _Dean?_  

His steps slowed as he concentrated on the faint voice of his Witch.  Castiel was in Salt Lake City, and Dean was in Denver which was pushing the limit of their ability to speak through the bond, and he needed to pay attention to what Castiel was saying in order to catch it all. 

 _What, Cas?  I'm working._  He didn't mean to sound irritable, but he wanted to catch this bastard before it started munching on people again. 

 _What are you hunting?_ Cas sounded casual, as if he wasn't worried at all.  He very likely wasn't.  If Dean needed assistance, Castiel would show up.  And with their bond, Dean healed from most minor wounds within minutes anyway. 

 _Werewolf again,_ Dean answered.   _It ate a family of four yesterday._  

 _That is unpleasant._  

Dean huffed in amusement.   _Yeah, so I need to y'know, concentrate and shit._  

 _Of course, Dean._  

As always, Dean's heart warmed at those words. 

Footsteps caught his attention, and Dean's ears perked up.  Jo and Charlie rounded the corner at the other end of the alley, out of breath.  Since Castiel had lifted the block on Jo and Garth's memories, Jo had started hunting a lot more.  She liked to come to Dean with the harder cases, and had struck up a quick friendship with Charlie when they'd finally met each other.  At least they said they were friends.  Dean had seen a few long looks from both of them, and he had his suspicions. 

He'd tried to keep Charlie out of hunting, but with Jo backing her, Dean had been unable to get his way.  Luckily she was doing a pretty good job of it, especially on the research end of things.  She was just as good as Ash at finding obscure hunts, and if it weren't for her, no one would have even known there was a werewolf here.  It’d been going after people living far outside the city limits, which had made tracking it difficult since it hunted so far away from its home. 

"You find anything yet?" Jo called from the other end of the alley.  

Dean let out two low barks, code for "no", as he made his way back to the mouth of the alley where they stood.  They'd come up with a system for communication because his ability to shift at will was still fragile and once he was back in human form, it might take him a while to get back to animal form.  At the moment, he wanted to stay a dog in case he needed to chase the werewolf on foot.  He was faster than any human because of his enhanced strength and endurance, but four legs were still better than two.  He would use every advantage he could against the monsters he hunted. 

He whined and stamped his foot.  Dog talk for "come here, let me show you something" so he could lead them to the ladder he'd found.  He waited until they'd acknowledged him and then turned to show them where the trail had left off. 

 _Dean?  When will you be home?_  

 _Probably tomorrow,_ Dean answered absently.  He was still scenting the area, making sure he still had the trail. 

 _Oh good._  

Dean couldn't help his curiosity.   _Why?_  

 _Because I miss sucking your cock, and I'd like to see you soon._  

Despite the fact that he had four legs, Dean stumbled.  He flattened his ears when Jo gave him a curious look.   _Jesus, Cas!_  

He was met with silence, but it was awfully smug silence.   

 _If I catch this fucker in the next few hours, I can be home tonight,_ he finally said.  

 _That sounds wonderful, Dean.  Be safe._  The words were accompanied by a wash of love.

 

\----------------------

 

It was nearing midnight by the time Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway of the home he shared with Castiel in Salt Lake City.  Getting home so quickly had required him to break every speed limit on the way, but Baby had a special spell that kept the highway patrol from noticing.  A spell he was grateful for since it had allowed him to get home so quickly. 

He smiled at the familiar tingle of the protection barrier as he passed through it.  He wouldn't be able to sneak up on Cas because of it, but with his mental wards widen open to the Witch, Cas would sense him coming even without the protection barrier warning him. 

He followed the tug of Castiel’s magic through the house, his boots clunking loudly on the hardwood floors.  The sound reminded him of Castiel’s old house sometimes, but this house was very different.  The old house had dark walls and floor, and the rooms were smaller.  This house was also a rambler, all of the rooms on one main level with an unfinished basement that Dean had slowly been turning into a new workshop for Castiel. 

Some things were familiar though.  It still smelled like an herb garden.  The same old fold out couch was in the living room, but now it was at the front of the house instead of the back.  The little table that could be expanded from four seats to as many as twelve with a whispered cantrip sat in a breakfast nook off the kitchen, which was separated from the living room by a long counter.  Dean walked past a stairway that went down to a basement, and through a mud room to get to the back door. 

The door to the back yard was open, letting in a cool autumn breeze.  Mosquitos and flies wouldn’t dare cross that threshold, not with Castiel’s spells warding the house against pests.  Dean stepped out into the darkness, but he could see clearly despite the lack of moonlight.   

The house was fairly high in the foothills of the Wasatch mountains, and the large trees framing the back yard did a fairly good job of blocking out the light of city below.  It was a pretty swanky part of the city, and Dean was impressed with Gabriel’s choice, although he would never admit it.  He also knew that Castiel wouldn’t have chosen the place on his own.  Cas would have picked a small house, something tiny, cozy, and a hundred years old.  Not this semi-modern work of art.  At least it wasn’t one of the huge mansions up behind the Capitol building though.  Dean and Cas both would have thrown a fit over that. 

But Dean knew exactly why Castiel had accepted it.  The large trees, and the open space full of grass and flowers and a large section off to the side for a vegetable garden were exactly Castiel’s cup of tea.  There was even a space in the back for a few beehives, and Castiel was so excited for fresh honey that Dean couldn’t help but get excited along with him. 

Because Castiel loved the garden so much, he had accepted the house Gabriel had obtained for him.  And over the last year, it had been slowly transforming into a home.  Sam and Gabriel visited often, and there were enough rooms in the house to accommodate visits from Dean’s friends and family.  Only Hunters that were willing to make sure the monsters they were hunting were the rabid kind were welcome in Castiel’s house.  Even John had come to visit a few times in the last year.   

It was a strange truce between the Hunters and the hunted, but Dean thought it was pretty cool nonetheless.  Witches weren’t the only supernatural friends he’d made in the last year, and he supposed that was a good thing since he was a supernatural creature himself now. 

“Welcome home, Dean.  How did your hunt go?” 

“Pretty damn good once we caught the fucker’s trail.  No more strange murders in the Denver suburbs.”  Dean smiled at Castiel.  The witch was lying on his back in the grass in the center of the yard, hands propped behind his head.   

“Aren’t you cold?” Dean asked as he closed the space between them.  The days were still warm, but the trees had started to turn gold and orange and yellow.  A breeze made the leaves sing softly, and Dean shivered as it reached under his jacket.  He was wearing layers, but Castiel was in a simple cotton shirt and slacks.  He looked like a hippy.  A hippy who was going to freeze to death if he stayed outside much longer.  October nights in the foothills of the Rockies could get pretty damn cold.   

“Come keep me warm,” Castiel answered.  He lifted his head enough to free one hand which he held out to Dean.  It was an invitation Dean wasn’t about to turn down.   

He’d only been gone for a week on this hunt, but it felt longer.  Since he’d begun living with Castiel, he’d stayed close, never going more than six to eight hours in any direction because neither one of them liked to be separated for long.  

Sam had suggested he give up hunting, but Dean could never do that.  Just because he was some kind of weird shifter, that didn’t mean he wasn’t also a Hunter.  And there were still monsters out there that needed to be exterminated.  Castiel would never ask him to quit hunting either.  He knew the importance of Dean’s job, and he supported it as long as Dean made sure that he was killing the right kind of monsters. 

Dean stripped his jacket off and tossed it back toward the house where it landed in a rocking chair on the back patio.  Settling down next to Castiel he sighed happily despite the dampness seeping into his clothing.  He thumped his heels together three times, and huffed a quiet laugh.   _There’s no place like home._  

Castiel scooted closer to him until their arms were pressed together.  He sighed as well as a current ran between their bodies.  His fingers found Dean’s and they tangled together.  The first few times Dean had come home from a hunt they had been frantic for each other, stripping each other down and fucking like animals.   

Dean’s lips twitched up at the memories.  It’d been pretty awesome actually.   

But so was this.  He squeezed Castiel’s fingers.  He wasn’t going to let Cas forget that promised blowjob, but for now holding hands and watching the stars like a couple of seventeen year olds was enough. 

He stared up at the sky.  It was just a sheet of black.  Turning his head he looked at the side of Castiel’s face.  “Hey, you know there’s too much light pollution to see the stars, right?” 

Castiel lifted his other hand and waved it at the sky.  “Easy to correct,” he murmured. 

Dean looked back up at the sky and the sky was full of stars.  More than he’d ever seen before, even out in the middle of nowhere on long road trips in the deserts of Arizona, or the plains of Kansas.  It was beautiful.   

He turned his head again to look at Castiel, whose eyes glowed softly in the darkness.  “Wow,” he said softly.  “That’s pretty awesome, Cas.” 

Castiel turned his head in the grass and gave Dean a warm smile.  “You’re awesome.” 

Dean laughed and rolled onto his side, draped his leg over Castiel’s and pressed their lips together.  Castiel’s arms came up around him, and his tongue slid across Dean’s bottom lip.  They kissed lazily, ignoring the rapidly cooling air around them.  They could keep each other warm, after all.  

Especially since… “Hey Cas?” Dean whispered between kisses.  “Think you could crank up the temperature a bit?” 

Castiel breathed an incantation against Dean's lips, and his breath smelled of sweet tea and honey.  The air around them warmed up.  “Of course, Dean.” 

Dean grinned, pressing his nose against Castiel’s.  “I love you, too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand done! Oh my gods, I can't believe I finished it. You know I only thought this story would be like 30k words at the most? I have no idea how it ended up this long! Thank you everyone for taking the time to read this. It's been a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed creating it.
> 
> Also, a million thanks to Alloutofgoodnames on Tumblr for the fanart!  
> http://alloutofgoodnames.tumblr.com/post/100947576518/fanart-for-the-fic-cursed-of-not-by-ltleflrt


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